Last Man Standing
by Escape the Shadows
Summary: A heavy metal band wraps up their tour in the great city of Raccoon City. Unfortunately, instead of finding the ultimate venue, they find hordes of the undead. Features an original cast.
1. Last Man Standing

_Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters (you're crazy if you think I did anyway). _

**Chapter 1- Last Man Standing**

A procession of tour busses pulled off the highway. They turned onto a much less traveled road, a road that led into a large forest and up a mountain. These busses were part of a tour, a music tour to be more defined. Headlining this tour was a metal band known to the world as Last Man Standing. Zack Hunter was their lead singer, Josh Hunter the drummer, Drew Walker the bassist, and Adam Chesting was the guitarist. Together, these four men were pioneering a new wave of heavy metal. They were the next big thing.

Following the release of their first, self-titled album, Last Man Standing began working on their next great work. This effort formed into the CD known as Silent Echoes. Shortly after the release, the album went to the top of the charts, causing the band to go on another tour in support of the release. This was the tour these busses were for. This was the tour that had hit every major city in the United States. This was the tour that was just finishing up at a city called Raccoon City.

Josh Hunter didn't have the time to sleep; he was too busy playing shows, partying with his band, and just having a good time, generally. It was a rare chance for him to receive his well-needed sleep, and he relished each tiny second he had in slumber. He had been enjoying one of these rare chances on the bunk beds of the tour bus as it made their transition to the next city.

"Wake up!" a voice urged. Josh's dream (which was strangely life-like, but aren't they always?) was shattered instantly as a pair of hands gripped his shoulders, shaking him until every last drop of fatigue left him.

"Get off!" Josh exclaimed angrily as he shook his hands defensively in front of him, successfully freeing himself. His tired eyes opened slowly to reveal a tiny man with long, curly, brown hair. He wore a simple black t-shirt that was adorned with the band Iron Maiden's main logo, the zombie simply known as Eddie. This shirt was accompanied by a pair of gray pants. Josh recognized this man instantly, it was Drew Walker, and he also happened to be his greatest friend.

Upon seeing his friend's affable face (which was clean-shaven, save for a tiny tuft of facial hair on his chin) and kind, brown eyes, Josh's manner changed entirely. His voice dropped into a much more amiable tone. "Sorry about that," he apologized. "Just don't like being woken up so rough." His friend only shrugged his shoulders, uncaringly, as if saying, _I know you didn't mean anything by it. No big deal._

Josh quickly sat up and knocked his head on the bunk that was above his. Drew's bunk, if you could believe it. "Son of a…" he cursed under his breath. Drew chuckled at this display, but didn't poke fun at him. That's part of why Josh liked him so much, he was nice and knew when to keep his wisecracks to himself. And could he blame him for laughing? Most certainly not, for he also joined his friend's amused laughter.

"Just wanted to wake you up," Drew said, giving an explanation that wasn't needed. "We're here, you know."

Josh almost opened his mouth questionably, about ready to ask where they where when the realization hit him. _We're at the next stop, _he thought. _What was its name? Ahh, yes, Raccoon City. That's it._

"That's good. You wake the others yet?" Josh asked with a casual tone, stretching his arms out in front of him.

Drew shook his head. "Nope, didn't need to. We've all been up, trying to decide when to wake your lazy ass up." Josh offered a small chuckle as Drew turned and walked on, towards the front of the bus.

Josh rolled out of the bunk, managing to land on his feet. The bunks were arranged on both sides, three bunks high. On one side, Drew had the top, he had the middle, and the bottom was reserved for storage. It was this bunk that he reached into. He pulled out a black, sleeveless, Metallica shirt bearing the infamous message, KILL 'EM ALL. Josh also grabbed a pair of green, cargo shorts, a pair of socks, and a clean pair of boxers.

The bathroom was towards the back of the bus. The sign atop the door read VACANT and he quickly claimed that vacancy for his own. He got in and shut the door behind him, quickly dressing himself.

Josh was only twenty-three years old, the prime of his life. His normal appearance was youthful, and full of energy. Looking in the mirror, he was appalled at the lack of those traits. He had bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, and his normal, bright, green eyes that shown like emeralds were now tired and listless. A faint beard was growing on Josh's face, adding to his appearance of exhaustion. He tried splashing cool water over his face, but it barely managed to revive any of his former youthful traits. _What I wouldn't give for a shower and a shave!_ he thought desperately. Surely, that would be all it would take to revive his appearance.

Josh considered himself a handsome fellow. At least, he was when he wasn't looking so dog-tired. He was around a height of 6'2" and weighed only around 200 lbs. Not bad for being so tall. He managed to keep this weight through weightlifting, and he had the form to prove it. He didn't look like a massive body builder, but he was well toned and muscular. Just in a leaner sort of way. His arms, however, were actually large, but you couldn't tell most of the time. The sleeves of his shirt normally withheld this secret, but the shirt he wore now was sleeveless, exposing his large biceps that were covered in tattoos.

On one of his arms, he had a large cross, surrounded by the words ONLY GOD CAN JUDGE ME. On the other, there was a large archaic H. There was one other who shared this mark, Josh's brother Zack. The letter had been both of their first tattoos and was a testament to their brotherly bond. Those we're his only tattoos, and he was fine with that. He didn't need to be covered from head-toe with meaningless tattoos. _No thank you, _Josh thought a bit sarcastically.

He took one more second to try to fix his unruly, medium length, blonde hair, but it was to no avail. Giving up with a hefty sigh, he grabbed a baseball cap and threw it over his head, bill forward. Satisfied with his new appearance, he left the tiny bathroom for a not much larger kitchen.

It wasn't so much as a kitchen; more of like a couple of cupboards, a sink, and a table with some chairs. What could one expect from a confined tour bus? The rest of the band was already there, sitting around the small table that also flipped into a makeshift bed. Wasn't that handy?

He quickly poured himself a bowl of cereal and took his seat next to Adam Chesting. Adam was shorter than Josh, but taller than Drew, making his height around 5'11". He had dark red hair that fell way past his shoulders. The typical heavy metal cut, as Josh called it. Adam might have appeared womanly from his longer hair, but one only need to look at his ragged beard to see he was a "he" and not a "she." His beard was thick and bushy and matched his dark red hair. To Josh, he looked like a lumberjack, or maybe a homeless man. Adam wore a black Sepultura shirt and a pair of baggy cargos.

Adam had tattoos, just like Josh, but he had far different choices. While Josh tried to keep things simple with just a couple of tattoos, the guitarist didn't hold back. His arms and legs were covered with tattoos ranging from woman in skimpy outfits to a picture of Zeus wielding a lightning bolt. One of his more impressive tattoos was a large skull that had been rammed through with a spear on his right bicep, bearing the message LIVE BY THE METAL, DIE BY THE METAL. However, the one that trumped all others was on his back. A large and rather elaborate grim reaper had been placed there. Above its head (which turned out to be Adam's shoulders) was a line that read DEATH AWAITS FOR NO ONE. Josh wondered how one man could stand to be marked so many times. Both times he had received his tattoos he never once thought, _Boy this is fun! Maybe tomorrow I can get another. Maybe a little kitty on my ankle!_ But to each man his own, he supposed.

"What's up, guys?" Josh asked casually as he took his seat.

"Usual," Zack responded with the same timbre that his brother had used. He was taller than Josh by a few inches (even though he was the younger of the brothers), but he lacked his muscular tone. Zack had short, spiky brown hair, and light, hazel eyes. He had probably the strangest facial hair of them all, a long, thin beard that started at his chin and ended at his neckline. He wore a rather large knock-off combat jacket that had never once seen even a second in battle. It was covered with patches that were all different symbols of the bands Zack loved. He called it his "display of the only bands that mattered."

They ate their breakfasts in silence. Josh supposed such silence would be uncomfortable for an outsider witnessing their meal, but it didn't bother him a bit. They had spent so much time together that didn't need to talk all the time. Things were shared on a much deeper bond. Sometimes it was better for them to just be silent, taciturn if you like.

Drew was the first to speak up. "What time is it now?"

Josh didn't check his arm for a watch, for he didn't own such an instrument like that. Instead, he pulled out his cell phone and checked the onscreen display. "Uh, it's almost noon right now," he said before returning the phone to the safety of its belt clip.

"Great. And when do we have to be at the concert?" Zack asked. There was some sort of enthusiasm in his voice, and Josh knew where it came from. Zack (and probably everyone else on this bus) was looking forward to this concert. Actually, it wasn't the concert they were looking forward too, but the end of the tour they were so eager to reach. After it ended, he and the rest of the band would be able to visit they're families. How long they could visit was yet to be seen, but he anxiously awaited it nonetheless.

"Concert starts at 6 o'clock."

Adam sighed as he leaned back in his chair. "At least this is it, then we're home."

Josh sighed too, already envisioning his home. Standing on the front porch would be his family, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the two missing components to their household. His mother's arms would be outstretched, waiting to embrace her sons while his father stood next to her, smiling. On his mother's other side would be Josh's faithful friend, Diego the black lab, sitting patiently with his tail wagging behind him and waiting for his chance to greet his master. Unaware to Josh, a faint smile was pressed to his lips.

Drew was completely aware of this smile, however. "What's so funny? Remember a good joke?" he asked with a slight smirk of his own.

"Nothing really," Josh answered truthfully. "Just thinking about home." Drew nodded, accepting his answer for what it was. He could see that Drew was looking for the end of this tour as much as he was. It was in his eyes. The dark brown irises shone fervently at the vision of reuniting with loved ones.

The discussion about returning to home had piqued the interests of everyone, everyone except Josh. While the others talked passionately about their plans, he turned his attention to the window and the streets behind it.

Inspecting the city, he saw small shops and privately owned businesses lining the streets. Occasionally, he would see a larger corporation, one he recognized, but most were unheard of by Josh. The streets weren't as crowded as larger cities tend to be. In fact, they were almost completely deserted. He wondered why such a large city would be missing so many people. What could possibly keep them from coming outside? He only hoped people wouldn't be too afraid of their shadows to come to the concert.

_Why did we end up here?_ Josh pondered as he looked at the ghost town. _There really isn't much here. It's so… so vacant._ He had heard the city mostly raked in income from mountaineers and tourists, which was a good way to earn money, he supposed. Now, the city was growing rapidly, all due to the massive Umbrella Corporation. For some reason, Umbrella had decided that Raccoon City would be the perfect location for several power plants and facilities. Why? Josh couldn't figure that out for the life of him, but whatever the reason, it must have been shared by his record company.

Honestly, he hadn't the right to complain about his current surroundings (later in the day, when his world was filled with blood, pain, and sweat, Josh could complain, but not now). He had in fact made it to the top, a place where many dreamed to reach, but seldom did. After such an accomplishment, could he really complain about playing a show in this mountain town that most of the United States hadn't even heard of (once again, there would be a later when nearly the whole world would know the words "Raccoon City")?

Truthfully, Josh couldn't believe how lucky they had been. He remembered when they first started in high school. Drew had played bass, Adam played the guitar, and Josh had the drums, same lineup as they currently had. They had trouble finding a singer, so after awhile Josh took the reigns as lead singer, and they found a different drummer, a boy named Kerry. They played for a year as that, working the small clubs around their city, but this wasn't the lineup that had brought them fame. Soon, Kerry had been unceremoniously kicked out of the band. He had a huge drug problem that was slowly bringing the band down, and Josh never doubted that decision once. Josh's younger brother, Zack, helped the band by filling in on vocals for a few practice sessions. This temporary filling had ended up becoming full time. Zack took over as their new front man. Josh returned happily to his former passion, drumming, but he still sang in the form of backup vocals.

That's when their career as Last Man Standing started. After another whole year of playing small venues, they finally began attracting larger crowds. These larger crowds in turn grew into larger shows, and so on. It was like a balloon filling with air, slowly, but still growing nonetheless. When this balloon had reached near its final size, they had attracted the attention of a Record Company. It was with this company that the band had began to record their first CD. It was surprisingly popular and before they knew it, they were called nationwide, "the future of metal." They began playing with the very bands they had grown up listening too, and then, three years after the birth of Last Man Standing, they recorded a second CD that reached the top of the charts. Now, here they were headlining their own tour. Josh could hardly believe what they had done in just five short years.

The entire band was the same age, 23, except for Zack who was one year younger than everyone else. They had started playing gigs around the age of 17 and now here they were, in the big time. He knew they were lucky, not many people managed to reach where they currently stood. It was a long way to the top, if you wanna rock-and-roll (to quote ACDC), but Josh and his friends had managed it. They were lucky, that was all. Just lucky.

However, there was only so long luck would last. Josh would find that out by the end of then night.

Josh's drifting mind snapped back to attention when he heard Zack speak up excitedly. "Holy crap! Look at this place!" Zack exclaimed, pointing out the front windshield. He had moved to the front of the bus and was currently standing next to Willy, their bus driver. He didn't seem to be pleased with Zack invading his personal space. He could see that by Willy's sour looks and the way he stared at Zack. The singer didn't seem to notice. He only stood where he was, gawking out the window as if he was seeing God himself.

Josh moved from his seat and stood next to Zack, cramping the front quarters ever so much more. He thought Willy would finally voice his irritation (_please, stay behind the yellow line_), but he said nothing. Josh completely forgot about Willy's sour gaze when he saw the beauty that lay on the other side of the thin pane of glass. This beauty belonged to a hotel.

The garden of the hotel didn't seem to belong to the city environment that surrounded it. It looked more like something Josh had seen in his history books. Ancient Rome, perhaps. Lining the driveway were many beautiful flowers and expensive statues. The leaves had changed color, but had failed to fall yet, adding another sense of beauty to this already dazzling display. The lawn was carefully maintained (not a single leaf lay on the soft grass) and Josh wondered how many gardeners were employed alone to preserve such an Eden.

The hotel was the apotheosis of it all, for it was grander than the scenery that surrounded it. Josh couldn't even count all the floors on it, but he put the number somewhere around ten. It appeared to be made entirely out of white marble, but he didn't think that was the case, _couldn't _be the case! If that all was white marble, this massive structure would rival the Taj Mahal.

The bus drove under an elegant archway with an assortment of animals carved into it. He had expected a multitude of screaming fans to be waiting for the convoy under the impressive balcony, but there was not. Standing alone in front of the wide double doors of the hotel was a single woman. Even more surprising was the fact that none of the others busses stopped at this wonder. The bus toting Last Man Standing was the only bus to stop.

The doors of the bus slid open with an audible WHOOSH! Josh was the first to step out. He walked out in a daze, mouth gaped open as his head moved about, gathering all it could take in. He looked about with the zealous intensity that a child had when visiting Disney World for the first time.

This was how he walked as he approached the front door, and the woman who stood in front of it, almost as still as the statues in the garden. She was a middle-age woman with frizzy red hair dressed in an expensive looking business suit, suggesting she was higher-up on the hotel food-chain. She smiled warmly at Josh and spoke in an even warmer voice. "Welcome to the Lux Cher Hotel. We've been expecting you."

"Yeah I can see that," Josh said, only with half of his attention. The other half was diverted firmly to his environment. _Wow! What are we doing at a place like this?_ he wondered. Then, and even greater question: _What's a place like this doing in a city like Raccoon City?_

"I've already taken the liberty of checking you in," the woman continued genially. You'll be staying at room nineteen, on the top floor. It has a fantastic view of the city below." She handed Josh a room key which wasn't so much a key, more of a plastic card, but it would work all the same. "If you need anything just tell me."

Josh nodded in response, finally directing his attention back to her. He noticed her nametag, which proved to him that she was important to the hotel. The card claimed she was the manager of the hotel, and that her name was Debra Baker.

Debra turned, and doing so, the doors seemed to magically open for her. _Don't be stupid,_ Josh reprimanded himself. _They're electronic. This place may be wonderful, but it's still real. No magic._ She led the group into the lobby, and he was once again amazed.

The lobby itself was incredible, but in a much different way then he had expected. While the outside had been decorated in what looked like an ancient Roman wonder, the inside was actually quite contemporary. The floor near the front entrance was tiled in the same sort of white marble, but past the check-in/out area, the floor was covered in a thin layer of moss green carpet. In the center of this lobby was a large, elegant fountain that almost seemed to spray the water to the second floor. Two staircases encircled the fountain, but Josh couldn't see the area behind it. The fountain was far too large. What he could see behind the fountain were two large elevators. They were made entirely out of black glass, the kind of glass that allowed those inside to see people in the lobby, but those in the lobby weren't granted view of the elevator's occupants. Off to the side was a large café or restaurant, he wasn't sure where the line was drawn between those two. At the sight of the restaurant/café, Josh's stomach gave a brief rumble. _In a little bit,_ he promised himself. It was a promise he meant to keep, for surely a restaurant in a hotel like this had to have the one thing he craved, real food. They probably had steak, and potatoes to go with it. Josh's mouth watered at the hope of such sustenance.

Opposite the restaurant (café) was a living area, complete with a large TV and comfortable sofas. Josh had no urge to partake in this; he wanted a comfortable bed instead of a sofa. Overall, the lobby was impressive, but it didn't quite match the magnificence of the exterior. _But what about the room?_ he wondered to himself. If this was how the lobby was, and the garden was more beautiful, where does the room measure up too? Closer to the garden or the lobby? Either way, he was sure he would be more than pleased.

The line of people (still led by Debra, who marched like a woman on a mission) now approached the fountain and passed it. Josh clearly heard the roar of the minute waterfalls that cascaded from it, it was impossible not to. He even felt the mist tickle his face and exposed arms (the closest he had come to a shower all week). He noticed that the floor of the fountain was covered in the familiar glow of copper. There was no shortage of change (especially pennies) on the bottom of this manmade oasis. _Has to be almost $100 in change down there,_ he thought with amusement.

They reached the elevator and this is where Debra made her stop. She turned around and he could still see the warm smile that had graced her face before. Josh noticed the smile wasn't forced like some phony salesman used. No, this woman was just happy, happy for the chance to meet famous people. _Probably not,_ he scoffed. _You can't be that vain. With how expensive looking this place is, I'm sure more than a handful of the rich and famous have made their presence here. Even if this is just a small mountain town._

Debra shook Josh's hand briefly, gave a quick "thank you for choosing the Lux Cher Hotel for your stay," and was off on other matters. _No, thank you for choosing us,_ he thought happily, watching her walk off. She still moved in that brisk business fashion. She reminded him of the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland (_I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date!)._

Everyone loaded up onto the opened elevator. The door slid silently shut, and Adam was the first to speak. "Can you believe this place!" he remarked with wonder. "Its like a five star hotel! How did we get in a place like this?" Josh noticed Adam was carrying a suitcase, which was currently slung over his back. In fact, everyone had some sort of luggage they were carrying, all except for him.

_Might want to get that._

"Well, the manager of this hotel is Bill's sister," Drew elaborated. "She gave us a free room."

BillSmith was the manager of the group, but to the band, he was more like the father they didn't have, while touring that was. Bill was even around the same age as Josh's real father. Just recently, he had played poker with Bill and his friends. Bill's son had even been there. He was the same age as Josh and he was already a successful lawyer in some high priced law firm. That had been a great night, a great night filled with money and alcohol. Josh had won over a hundred dollars. Apparently, the lawyer boy wasn't as good at poker as he was at making cases. Josh thought that was funny, for, in essence, they came down to the same thing.

"Wonder what our room is going to be like?" Adam asked. Josh could see the strange wonder that had filled Adam's eyes still hadn't vacated. He was now engrossed in the shaded glass of the elevator. Apparently, he thought the lobby was more magnificent from multiple stories when compared to ground zero.

"The toilets are going to be made of gold and the toilet paper will be hundred dollar bills," Zack said from the back of the elevator in a low voice. He sounded serious and Josh couldn't help but turn and give his brother the "what are you talking about look." He wasn't entirely surprised to see a large, goofy grin slapped on his brother's face.

"Sure will," Josh said, his voice much more sarcastic than his brother's. Then, a little more serious, "If it's anything like the rest of this hotel, I'll think we'll be more than happy." That was the truth. He was already surprised at the standard of living employed by the hotel, but he still couldn't help but fantasize about the splendors of what the room would hold. It was like waiting for that one special gift on Christmas. You knew it would be big, but you didn't know _how _big.

When they opened the door to room 11 of floor 19, Josh wasn't disappointed. He thought calling it a room would be an understatement. Room 11 was more like an apartment, and he was ecstatic to see that it measured up very nicely to the rest of the hotel. Very nicely indeed.

Laid out before him, in all its beauty, was the living room. The walls were bare but were painted in a satisfying shade of light brown. In the living room was a large, black, leather couch, a chair of the same quality, and the largest TV Josh had ever seen in his life. Josh had to resist the urge of running to the television as fast as he could and leaping onto that comfy looking sofa. It was that inviting. Adjourned to the living area was a small dining room, and connected to that was the kitchen.

The kitchen had all the top of the line appliances; a stove, a washing machine, a microwave, a refrigerator, and even a trash compactor filled the linoleum floor. The fridge and the cabinets were stocked full of food, and he was more than happy to see that the white, linoleum floors were clean, as were the counters. Both shone brilliantly with sparkling perfection. The faint smell of lemon was still in the air, and Josh's nose tickled pleasantly at its odor.

"Check it out!" Zack exclaimed as he leapt deftly over the sofa and landed softly on its plush, comfortable pillows. He turned on the TV and began channel surfing. Even though the TV was impressive, Josh's curiosity prevented him from staring at the electronic device mindlessly. He moved on, wanting to see the rest of the rooms.

There were two bathrooms. They both came with the simple necessities, but they also included Jacuzzis and a set of towels labeled HIS and HERS. Josh grabbed the one branded HERS and tossed it at Adam. "Here, I believe this is yours." Adam caught it in midair and looked a it puzzled. When he saw the brand on it, he chuckled.

"Very funny, ass," Adam said as he whipped the towel back at Josh with all of his strength. "I'll have to remember that one."

There were three bedrooms, all wonderful, but by varying degrees. One was the master bedroom that had a king-sized bed and another TV (not as big as the one in the living room, but still large all the same). The other two came with two single beds, and lacked the treatment the king-sized bedded room had. This didn't matter to Josh. Any bed would do the job, and they all looked comfortable. He leapt onto the king-sized bed and landed on layer upon layer of soft, delicate sheets. It felt softer than a cloud and he just lay there, staring at the ceiling. _I could lay here for the rest of my life,_ Josh thought. _Just lay, relax, and rest._ This was an idea he could really get into. Slowly, his eyes drifted close.

Bill then came into the room, unnoticed by Josh who was just mere seconds away from falling into a deep sleep. "So how do you like the room?" he asked him with a voice that was thick, but still gentle in a friendly way. It was like the voice of a grandparent, deep with age, but caring all the same.

"Top notch," Josh responded. He forced himself to sit up and look at Bill in the face. His head spun at the sudden shift in position, disorienting him slightly. It probably was contesting the decision to sit up, wanting to lay back down again. His swirling vision quickly centered and the argument was over. Josh had won, but next time he might not. Next time, he was sure he would fall asleep in midair as he dove onto the bed.

It was Bill that his vision settled on. He was a short, round man with balding white hair. He wore a plaid shirt tucked into a pair of brown slacks, and he also wore glasses over his dark blue eyes. One of the friendliest smiles Josh had ever laid eyes on was on Bill's countenance. He found himself smiling when looking at his face, for smiling was contagious. It wasn't much different from the flu, an infection all its own. "Can't believe you got us a night here," Josh said, shaking his head with honest amazement.

"Then I've got good news, Bill said, taking a seat on the large bed next to Josh. "Debra says we can stay an extra night if we like." He stopped, as if letting Josh contemplate this choice, then started again. "That is, if you want to."

"Of course," Josh replied, leaning back down and closing his eyes. "Then I'll finally get a chance to get some rest."

"Hey, Josh! Check it out! They have eighteen different porn channels!" Zack called from the other room, his voice was filled with astonishment.

"That's great, Zack!" Josh called back in an uncaring voice.

"Do whatever you like," Bill carried on, seeming to ignore what Zack had just said (or simply not hearing it). "Just remember there's more to do here than sleep. You could go down to the pool or restaurant. I think she said there's even a place to get a massage."

Josh smiled and gave Bill a salute. "Will do, captain." His thoughts began drifting as he found himself tottering on the line that bridged consciousness from unconsciousness. Soon, he would topple and fall headfirst into the latter section. Before he could do so, Bill spoke up again.

"Where's your luggage?" Bill asked curiously, looking around at the impressive room. "I don't see it here."

"That's cause it's still on the bus," Josh said, finally opening his eyes. _How could I forget that stupid bag! _he thought with just a little anger. If he was going to stay an extra night, he would most certainly need that bag. Then there was another voice, one that goaded him for being so absentminded. _Good work! Now you have to go back all the way downstairs and pick it up. See what happens when you become distracted from some stupid garden?_ Josh pushed this voice far away, not wanting to listen to its aggravating provocations.

Moaning, he sat back up and was once again hit with that same hammer of disillusionment. This time, he actually swayed with it. It was clear his body and mind were not happy with being denied that which they wanted more than anything else. Not once, but twice.

"Guess I gotta go get it, uh?" Josh complained.

"Yep, seems so." Bill eyed him curiously, probably wondering if Josh would make it downstairs without collapsing from exhaustion. "I'll come with you," he finally added.

Josh shook his head. "No, you don't have to. I can get it by myself. It's not that big of a bag." But Bill insisted. Josh was in no mood to argue (especially about something so dumb as receiving help) so he gave in, and the two of them left Room 11 of floor 19. Before leaving, he had turned back towards the bed he had just lain in. He could clearly see his imprint in the light, cream colored comforter. It reminded him of the snow angels he used to make as a child.

In the end, Josh was glad Bill had came, for he had helped him avoid a certain crisis in the lobby. One that he wouldn't be able to handle himself in his current fatigued state.

Bill and Josh reached the elevator. There was no 1st Floor button, but there was one clearly marked LOBBY. This was the one he pressed before turning his attention to the glass walls of the elevator. What he saw made his stomach do a small somersault. Below, in the lobby, a large mass of people had assembled. He had no doubt they were locals who couldn't wait until the concert to have their first glimpse at the band, Last Man Standing. Luckily, Josh was still in the elevator and they couldn't see him (thanks to the shaded glass). "Oh, no," he muttered under his breath. Bill said nothing, only gave a disapproving scowl at the crowd below.

Josh immediately pulled the bill of his hat down, attempting to disguise his person from the crowd. He realized it would do no good. With Josh's tattoos and long hair (Josh didn't think it was that long, but some other guests of the Lux Cher might disagree) he would be instantly recognizable against the regular cutout guests. He'd be like a red shirt in a sea of white. _I won't step off,_ Josh thought. _I'll just head back up to the room, unnoticed, and forgot about my bag. I can get it at anytime, anyway._ It was a sound plan, all depending on if he could avoid the crowd when the elevator doors opened.

As it turned out, the elevator doors opened, and standing before Josh, was a small group of fans. _That's the end of that plan. _Luckily, the group of teenage boys didn't notice him for who he was. At least, not a first.

He managed to take a few steps out of the elevator, past the group of teens, before his cover was blown. "What a minute…" one of the adolescent boys whispered to his friends. "Was that Josh Hunter?"

With those four words, Josh's fate was sealed. He was quickly surrounded by the group, which was soon joined by nearly everyone else in the lobby. Voices surrounded him, filling his head no matter which way he turned. Immediately, he was overwhelmed. He was just having a sensory overload; too many people and too many voices.

This is when Bill stepped in. He spoke in a booming voice that commanded attention. "Everyone just hold on!" Josh was thankful when the crowd grew silent, allowing his throbbing head to recover slightly. "Josh has had a very busy day, and he does not have the time to give any autographs. Not now, at least." Bill's voice had dropped down to his regular, sociable voice (with just a little bit of a southern drawl). "He and the rest of the band will be signing autographs at the local CD store. If you wish to receive an autograph, head there at around seven o'clock. Thank you."

Josh wasn't surprised to hear a few disappointed sighs, but the crowd still managed to disperse. He gave a sigh of relief and looked gratefully at Bill. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

"It was nothing," Bill said genuinely. "Just helping out my band. I'm the manager, after all. It's what I do."

"Regardless, I really appreciate it. Later, I'll buy you a beer."

"Excuse me," a voice interrupted. Josh turned to see an older man and a younger boy who barely appeared to reach his teen years. The older man had jet-black hair that was cropped on the sides, and the boy (presumably the man's son) had the same color hair, though his was longer, the traditional cut of the American-youth.

"Hi, I'm Steven Miller, and this is my son, Michael," said the man. He gestured towards his son as he spoke. "Is it possible for him to have your autograph?"

Josh opened his mouth to speak, and he was sure whatever would come out would do so harshly. He couldn't stand people who thought they could find a way around the rules. People who didn't know when no meant no. Not to mention, something about this guy rubbed Josh the wrong way. He wasn't sure of what, and it was a strange feeling to have when just meeting a guy for the first minute.

Bill cut him off before he could speak, and it was a good thing he did so. "I'm sorry but both of us are completely exhausted and we would enjoy to get some rest before the concert. So why don't you just wait until later like I said." Bill's voice was gentle, and Josh had to give the man credit. The man was patient. Far more patient than he would have been. If he would have spoke, he would have probably thrown in a few cuss words right now, and then he would just end up coming out like a jerk.

"Actually, there was something else," Steven said. He spoke with slight hint of shame in his voice. Almost like he was admitting he had done something wrong. Josh had used that same voice as a kid when he had busted a neighbor's window while playing baseball. "I was just wondering if you had any extra tickets for the show. See, the concert's sold out, but I thought maybe you could help us out." Now, he understood. Obviously, the man had promised his son, Michael, a couple of tickets but had failed his promise. Josh couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Michael that was, not his father.

Then, Bill surprised Josh by reaching into his back pocket and producing two laminated cards. "These are backstage passes," he explained. "Now both of you can enjoy the concert." He handed them to the boy. His eyes lit up with joy and surprise, and he was so shocked he couldn't say a word. He only managed to mumble something under his breath that could be taken as a thank you.

With that, Bill ushered the two away. They left happily. The boy clutched the backstage passes before him, staring at them with bugging eyes. If the his eyes bugged out anymore, Josh was sure they would fall out.

After they had disappeared out the sliding front doors, Josh and Bill began their own walk, resuming their quest of retrieving Josh's luggage. "That was a very nice thing you did," Josh said at last, smiling at his father figure. "I thought you might have yelled at them. You know, tell them to get the fuck off."

Bill laughed at that. "No, that would be rude."

"Then why did you do it?" Josh asked with sincere curiosity.

Bill sighed, contemplating his answer. "Did you see the boy's face when I pulled out those two passes?" Josh nodded at this. Yes, he had seen the boy's face light up with the purest form of joy. He had to admit that seeing such joy had made his own heart lift.

"Well," Bill continued, "I just love helping out kids. It just makes me feel like a better person."

_Totally understandable,_ he thought, ending that discussion.

Josh and Bill managed to find the tour bus with no problem. It was parked out back, as to not attract any attention. Josh knew it wouldn't work. In a secluded city like this, no matter how big or small (or seemingly vacant) it was, word would get around. He guessed that in no time flat, countless people would be coming to the hotel, asking which room Last Man Standing was staying in. He could only hope that the hotel employees didn't give in, but after seeing the efficiency Bill's sister, Debra, handled things, Josh thought he was in good hand.

"Do you think you'll be fine on the way back?" Bill asked as Josh pulled his duffel bag out of its storage compartment.

"Yeah," he answered. "I don't think I'll be having any trouble. Not after you saved me back there."

"Good. I'm going to go for a walk." Josh turned to head back towards the hotel, but Bill still had one more thing to say. "Don't forgot to be at the CD store at seven, sharply. I'll see you there." He gave a quick wave before turning his back on his manager and heading back towards the hotel.

He was grateful to see that the lobby was deserted, save for a lone man checking in. Bill had taken care of things before, and he was sure it would a long time before anyone else showed up with inquiry about Last Man Standing.

The man checking in looked like a wealthy businessman (looked wealthy from the hotel he chose to stay at, and like a business man from the suit he wore and the suitcase he carried), but something was wrong with him. His skin was unhealthily pale and he appeared to be itching himself all over. The man looked sicker than a dog, sick enough to warrant a visit to the hospital. _No, a funeral home, _Josh thought grimly.

Keeping as far away as possible from the sick man, he moved towards the elevator. It wasn't because he was afraid of catching a cold. God knew he had his fair share of flu's and colds, but it was something else. There was something about that man that just didn't seem right. It was probably nothing. Nothing more than him being distressed. After all, he was dog-tired.

He made it to the room without any trouble, just like Bill had said. He couldn't see any of his friends, but he was sure they were around. Maybe swimming in the pool, or maybe receiving one of those massages. Regardless of what they were doing, Josh was thankful he had the room to himself. The silence would make it easier for him to sleep. Much easier, in fact, when compared to the normal wild antics that happened on the tour bus.

He knocked loudly three times on one of the doors to the smaller bedrooms. He thought that everyone else had left, but it didn't hurt to make sure. There was no answer. Satisfied, Josh opened the door, threw off his shoes and baseball cap, and collapsed onto the single bed,

It took Josh longer to fall asleep then he originally thought. He had expected to fall into a deep coma-like sleep as soon as his head had connected to the pillow, but it wasn't so. He lay awake, thinking of the businessman he had seen not five minutes ago. _That man was sick,_ he thought. _What's he doing on a trip? He looked so bad he could have been…_ Josh couldn't finish that thought, for he fell asleep then.

He had meant to finish with the word dead. Yes. The man had looked so bad, he had had almost appeared dead.

* * *

_A/N: So there you go. The first chapter of this particular fic. Not much action right now, but that's sure to change. Please tell me what you think. Tell me what you like/don't like/what could be improved etc. Take it easy. _


	2. Butterflies and Blood

**Chapter Two-Butterflies and Blood**

_The air was still and listless. Not a single voice breached the silence. The city was empty, lifeless._

_Josh knew his surroundings, knew them well enough. He was back home, back at Destry. More specifically, he was back at his old neighborhood. The road was a dead end with both sides lined up with pleasant looking homes. Except these houses were pleasant no more._

_Each house seemed to have been hit by a bomb. Debris littered the road like fallen soldiers in a great battle. A few houses had even managed to collapse completely, sinking in on themselves almost like they were crushed from a great weight above._

_All the houses were crushed in, pulverized by some unseen force, except for one. The house at the very end of the road stood tall and proud like some ancient tree in a burnt forest. That was Josh's house, and he was thankful. How it had survived whatever apocalypse had taken place, he didn't know (or care for that matter)._

_"Home!" Josh exclaimed with enthusiasm. He raced for his abode, bounding over the chunks of wood. There was no time to go around, just over._

_As he grew nearer, he noticed figures standing on the porch. A large smile split on his features. Yes, he was back home, back where he belonged. Later, he and the rest of the people that comprised Last Man Standing would be on another tour, but not now. Now, he had time to enjoy the company of his family._

_He had originally thought he saw two figures, or, more specifically, his mom and dad. As he drew closer, he noticed there were actually three figures. And still, drawing closer, he could see who these figures were._

_They were his band mates._

_He now stood at the bottom of the steps leading onto his porch; his band mates were on the top, by the door. However, despite the small distance, Josh could not see his friend's features, just their outlines. Almost like he could only see their auras, or souls._

_"Guys," he exclaimed happily. "What are you doing here? Where's my mom and dad?" Josh took one step up, then two back. "No!" he exclaimed with horror, throwing his hands up to shield himself from the abhorred sight. He lost his balance, and fell onto his rear end at the bottom of the stairs._

_When he had brought up his foot to the first step, the shadows obscuring his friends was no more. He saw them clearly, but he wished he had not._

_Yes, it had been Adam, Drew, and Zack, just as he had thought, but they were changed. All had deep gashes in their skin and their clothes were torn apart. Adam's hair was matted together with what looked like blood, and large clumps of skin had fallen off his face, exposing his bony jaw. Drew's side was cut wide open and Josh had a clear view of his internal workings through that cut. Zack's face was cut apart and a large bullet hole had appeared on his temple. All three of them were dead, but now their spirits haunted Josh's doorstep, awaiting his return._

_Despite all of their obvious wounds, the three band mates all bore the same look of insane joy on their faces. Wide, ear-to-ear grins were plastered crazily onto their faces. It seemed to be this over joyous smile that chilled Josh's bones more than anything else of his friend's appearance._

_He turned, turned to run from his friends, but his escape was cutoff. He was now facing back down the road and towards another figure. He recognized this one too, but he was surprised to see him._

_It was the business man from the lobby. Unlike the Josh's friends, he was unscathed, though his face was pale and his eyes had grown a fiery red. He pointed a bloody claw at Josh and opened his mouth to make some macabre proclamation, but nothing projected. He mouthed something unheard at Josh, but he didn't see what it was, couldn't see what it was. Before he could decipher the specter's message, a blinding light filled his vision._

xXxXx

The light before Josh's eyes dissipated to reveal a twirling ceiling fan. It spun slowly, allowing him to count its spokes.

He moaned slightly, rubbing his eyes, realizing he was laying in a cold sweat, a clear sign of a nightmare. _But what was it?_ he asked himself. He had some vague memory of the man in the business suit, the man from the lobby, but that was all. The dream had been swept away like a message written sand washed away by the tides.

_No matter,_ he thought. _It's not important. _But that wasn't the truth. He had thought it was important somehow. Dreams normally hid messages, hid them sublimely in your subconscious, or at least that's what Josh had heard. He couldn't recall enough to pick apart the dream anyhow, so it really wasn't important. If it was really important, Josh thought he would have remembered it.

He stretched again, trying to place his mind as far away from the businessman (and the secret message with him, the one Josh couldn't remember). The clock on the nightstand next to the bed read 5:45 P.M. Only fifteen minutes until the concert officially started. He wasn't worried about missing it. Even though the concert started at six, he wouldn't have to take the stage until around nine.

_Whoa,_ he remarked. If Josh could remember correctly, he had began his little nap around noon. Meaning, he had been out for nearly six hours. Not such a little nap, after all.

Regardless, he felt more restored then ever before. He sat up and rolled out of bed. Standing up, he stretched. He could hear the faint pop of his stiff joints flexing, but it wasn't disturbing in any way. In fact, it was enjoyable, refreshing.

He took a shower, enjoying every drop of water that touched his skin. It had been awhile since Josh had taken a shower, almost as long as it had been since getting a good nights sleep. Afterwards, he gave himself a quick shave. After finishing that, he inspected his work.

Already he seemed younger. His face was no longer haggard with exhaustion, and the shave had really cleaned him up a bit, livening up his face. His hair still wasn't combed, but it was at least neat in its own way. It wasn't sticking straight up like before.

Josh combed through his baggage, looking for a clean pair of clothes. He came up with nothing.

On his long tour, he had rarely came across a place to wash his clothes, relying on sinks for the occasional wash and it showed. All the clothes were stained with food or sweat. The freshest pair of clothes was the ones he had worn before taking his shower. He didn't hesitate to redress in those. They may be a little smelly, but it wasn't that bad when compared to the competition.

When he left the bedroom and came into the living room, Adam, Drew, and Zack were all gathered around the TV, staring intently at the screen.

"What's up guys?" Josh asked friendly, very friendly actually. That nap had done more than replenish his strength, it had revitalized his spirit.

"Shhhh!" Drew hissed quickly. He brought up his pointer finger in front of his mouth, emphasizing his statement. The whole time he did this, he did so without removing his eyes from the TV. It was like he was helpless to do otherwise. Almost like someone under hypnosis.

"What's going on?" Josh asked with concern. They said nothing, only stared at the glowing box. Now, his interest was more than just piqued. He was completely curious, fascinated.

He moved around the sofa, positioning his self in clear view of the TV.

"The death total rises again in Raccoon City. All due to the cannibalistic murders," said an attractive woman with dark hair.

"What is she talking about?" Josh blubbered suddenly. He hadn't meant to, but when one heard about something like this, they normally wouldn't believe it right away. He was no exception to this rule.

No one told Josh to shut up. Adam only raised the remote to turn the volume up.

"A family of five was found dead in their home. All of the victims had apparently been eaten." The camera turned to show a nice white house, light blue trim, one that was similar to Josh's in a way. In a different setting, the house would look peaceful, happy, inviting, but not today. The front door was busted off its hinges (but someone had been courteous enough to set it neatly to the side) and the entire front yard was encircled in yellow caution tape. A small gathering of people had already gathered around the house attracted to the scene like flies to the light.

"This makes the second attack this week. The earlier had occurred without fatality, but the perps are believed to belong to the same organization. When police chief Irons was asked about this rise in brutality, he said this:"

The camera once again changed, but this time to some sort of news conference. A large, plump man had taken the podium. His face was drawn into a serious line that was almost comical with his large, thick, graying mustache. _Would_ have been comical if not for the grim prelude, that announcement of the dead, half-eaten family.

The man, Irons, cleared his throat gruffly and began speaking. Josh could tell that this man loved the attention he was receiving. It showed in his gray eyes. "This is the first real murder since July, and there is no doubt in my mind that the culprits belong to that same group. Though the police department has not found the murders yet, I can assure you that we are doing all we can. More units are one the way and I can confidently say that we will have these perpetrators behind bars in no time. Until we find them, I strongly suggest a 10 o'clock curfew and you should make sure all doors and windows are locked at night. We will find these culprits. That's a promise." The camera focused on Irons, closing in on his harsh face.

With Irons' statement at an end, Adam turned off the TV. He was still staring at its black, empty screen, entranced by what he had just witnessed. "Wow," was all he could mutter, shaking his head side-to-side with disbelief.

"I know," Drew agreed. "That is the craziest thing I have ever heard in my life."

xXxXx

"What kind of cults actually eat people?" Josh asked. After leaving the room, the group had decided to head to the restaurant, conveniently located in the hotel. They now sat at one of the tables, waiting for their menus. Their minds had never left the news.

"I don't know," Drew answered. That was the only answer he could muster, perhaps he was as shocked as everyone else. _Who would have thought something like this would happen in a quiet town like this?_ he pondered. Certainly, he never would have imagined such a thing as cannibalism still existed in the world he knew today.

"The thing I don't get," Adam interjected. "How has no one ever seen these guys at night? Do they just sneak in at the dead of night?"

"No," Josh quickly rebutted. He was leaning back in the seat, looking positively relaxed. He talked in a manner that was almost philosophical. The voice of a man who is deeply considering all options and sides, attempting to find the solution to some great riddle. "Did you see the door to that house? Busted right of it's hinges. No sneaking involved in that."

"Yeah, I saw that," Drew said, supporting his friend.

"Okay, okay. I see what you're getting at, but that still doesn't explain how no one else heard them enter."

Josh only shook his head dumbly at this proclamation. "Heavy sleepers, maybe," he said. "Or maybe the neighbors did hear something, just didn't report it yet." Drew was sitting across from Josh, on the outside, and he saw his eyes shift to the right. That was when he became aware of the soft sounds of footsteps. Someone was approaching.

Drew turned to see the waitress approaching with a handful of menus and a friendly smile. She was slim with delicate features. Her hair was of a golden yellow and it was tied in a ponytail.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," she spoke pleasantly. "My name is Christie, and I'll be serving you today. Can I start you off with something to drink?" They all placed their orders for drinks and she jotted all of down quickly and efficiently on her notepad. "I'll be right back," she said and turned back to the kitchen. Josh leaned out the side of the seat, watching her go.

Drew smiled at this sight. It reminded him of his teenage years. The four years he and his friends had spent gallivanting after girls like lost puppy to children. Good times indeed.

He couldn't help but ask the next question. "Like what you saw?" Josh only smiled back. Drew returned the gesture.

"I wonder what the bodies looked like?" Adam asked, suddenly, taking both Josh and Drew by surprise. With the arrival of their waitress, he had temporarily forgot about their previous discussion. Adam, it seemed, had not.

"Trust me on this one," he said. "You're better off not knowing."

Zack spoke up suddenly, taking them all by surprise. "Imagine someone took a teddy bear and ripped it to shreds, spilling the stuffing all around. Now replace the bear with a person and the stuffing with guts." He brought his hands forth and displayed them in front of him, in a gesture that said _here you go._

Drew shuddered at the image. It was a powerful one, and one that shook the foundation of his core. He knew that for the rest of the day, that image would probably be stuck in his head like all night. _Thanks for the picture,_ he thought sarcastically.

"How do you suppose they killed them?" asked Adam, once more. "A gun, knife, baseball bat? Or what if they just ate them alive? That would be freaky, huh?"

"For the love of God! Just leave it alone!" Josh said exasperated, but his tone was not harsh, just disturbed. "We're about to eat, and you're filling all of our heads with these disturbing images. Just leave it alone. I beg ya."

"All right," the guitarist mumbled under his breath, clearly disappointed at his friends lack of enthusiasm for the macabre. "I just thought it was interesting that's all."

"It was, but not anymore."

"I was thinking," Drew said, quickly changing the subject, "that we should do something special for this show. Seeing how it's the last of this tour."

"Go out with a bang," Zack said quietly. Drew pondered what was under the singer's skin right now. Half the time the others were begging him to shut up, yet now he barely said anything. _Just homesick, _he thought. _That's all._

"I agree," Adam spoke up. "Something so awesome, people will be talking about it in this city _forever_!" He was enthusiastic about it, for sure. He talked like a man that had just discovered the cure for cancer.

They all grew quiet, contemplating the solution to their problem. Before any of them could formulate anything that could reasonably taken as an answer, Christie came back to the table. With her, came the drinks.

"Have you guys decided what you want to order?" she asked pleasantly. Drew didn't think he could say that with such a manner. No doubt, she had to say that to every, single customer that came in. By all rights, she was untitled to say it monotonously, almost robotic, but to say it liked she actually was interested, that was something different.

He looked down and realized he hadn't even opened his menu. Quickly he picked it up and picked something out a random. _Filet mignon, sounds good. _It was pricey, but he was sure that didn't matter. They were respected guests of the hotel, after all.

"I'll have the filet mignon, please," the bassist said quickly, handing the menu back to the waitress. "Make it medium, please."

"Sounds good," Josh agreed. "I'll have the same, but medium-rare if that's alright."

Zack ordered the roast lamb; Adam ordered something called "escargot."

"They're awesome!" Adam elaborated later. "I mean, they're little snails. What's not cool about that?"

"Yeah, but what do they taste like?" Josh asked inquisitively.

Adam only shrugged. "Hell if I know."

The table erupted with laughter, which earned a few not-too-friendly stares from the other guests. Drew was sure the high-class people who normally visited this hotel were not happy with the people sitting at this table. It could be the long hair, the tattoos, the tattered clothes, or maybe their attitude. There had to be something that crawled under their skin.

"Back to the concert," Josh said, dropping his voice like he was telling some great secret. "Any ideas?"

"What if…" Zack spoke up. Drew sighed, he knew Zack well enough. When he said something it was usually in some sarcastic manner. It always left Drew smiling, and this time, he did not fail expectations. "What if we sacrificed Adam to the gods? He's not a good guitarist anyway. No loss there." At this remark, Adam turned and punched the youngest member in the shoulder at a level that bordered between play and anger.

Drew wasn't surprised to let loose another noisy chortle of laughter, earning some more of those glares from the other visitors.

"I'm being serious here," Josh said, still smiling from his brother's playful antics.

"And why would you think I wasn't?" Zack said plainly, no smile on his face. In fact, his face was solemn, the pure expression of gravity. It was this look that made Drew laugh even harder.

The laughter subsided and Drew spoke up. "I know what we could do. "We could do some cover songs. Rock out to some Metallica or Slayer."

Zack and Adam nodded in agreement, but the drummer wasn't quite sold yet. "I don't know," Josh said. "I don't think it's big enough. We need something huge, something monumental on a grand scale."

"Something with balls," Zack added.

"We could whip out the new shit," Adam proposed. "I mean we got some songs we never put on the second CD. We could play those."

Josh's mouth hung wide open at the guitarist's proposal. "That's it! We'll play something no one in the world has ever heard!" He looked around and received nods of approval from his band mates. "Does everyone still know how to play some of those songs?"

Drew thought carefully. Did he remember those songs? Good question. They hadn't played those songs since the time they had wrote them, and they had been all but unceremoniously scrapped with the record company's disapproval. _Sorry, Not up to snuff. _However, Drew thought he still remembered most of them. What he didn't know he could probably make up on the spot. So yeah, he did remember.

"Yeah, still know them," Drew said.

"Once you sing some lyrics, they're stuck in your head. No matter how long it's been since you last heard that song," Zack said.

"Of course I do," Adam said. "Wrote most of them, didn't I?" _Actually, no,_ Drew thought to himself. In truth, Josh had wrote most of the songs. He wrote all the lyrics, but not because he was controlling like that. No, that wasn't it. Josh would be more than glad to let someone else write lyrics, but no one could yet reach the level Josh was at. Drew tried, and tried, but could still not come up with anything good.

"Then it's settled!" Josh clapped his hands excitedly in front of him, sealing the deal.

"But what song?" Drew asked.

Josh sat, pondering for a moment. He didn't think anyone else was even thinking about what song to play, for Drew wasn't even doing it himself. If there was a song to be played, Josh would figure out which one would work best.

"What about 'Exorcism?'" Josh asked, tentatively. "That's one of my favorites from the F list."

_Perfect!_ Drew thought. It was in fact the very song he, himself, would have chosen. It was one of those energy filled songs. One of the songs that just made you want start jumping up and down, screaming your head off. Yes, that song would definitely make a great live song. Too bad they wouldn't get the chance to play it.

"Sounds good. Sounds very good." He watched his friends eyes shift to the side again. That's when he smelled the delicious aroma that wafted from behind him. He could smell the intoxicating (and somehow foreign) scent of cooked meat, potatoes, and other assortment of exciting smells. Drew's mouth instantly began to water and his stomach growled hungrily like a starved lion.

Christie handed him his plate with a familiar smile. He hardly noticed this. His eyes were already focused intently on the food. There was his steak, so juicy and tender. There was indeed a side of potatoes, baked potatoes.

Drew dug in almost instantly. Before his hunger wasn't bad, a little annoying, but nowhere near what it was now. With the sight and smell of such wonderful cuisine before him, his hunger grew ravenous.

Drew was glad to see that he wasn't the only one to act so. Everyone immediately began shoving their food into their mouths eagerly.

The filet mignon was easily the greatest thing he had ever tasted in his life. He didn't so much as chew it, it seemed to melt in his mouth instead. _Never again!_ he vowed. _Never again will I go so long off Twinkies and fast-food. Never!_

Christie watched the band eat voraciously like a pack of wolves with a look of shock and surprise displayed upon her countenance. Never in her life had she seen people act like this before. It was strange, chaotic. They weren't behaving like humans anymore, it was almost like they went back in time to a when that was much more primal.

xXxXx

"That was probably the best meal I've ever had," Zack exclaimed loudly with a satisfied burp. The group had finished their meal rather quickly, and was now heading towards the concert.

"Definitely," Josh agreed, patting his stomach. "Never has something tasted that good."

Under normal circumstances, they would have taken the bus, but Josh thought it was just too fine of a day to waste on the bus.

Zack thought it was a great choice. He hated being cramped up in the bus for hour upon hour almost as much as everyone else, and he enjoyed every opportunity he had to breathe fresh air (much like everyone else). The scenery definitely helped too. It wasn't night yet, but it was drawing near. The sun was setting, casting a beautiful red glow over the streets. The hotel was built on a hill, and the hotel stood at the summit, towering above all the buildings around it. It was from there that the view was most breathtaking. From the hotel, he saw a greater part of the city lain out about him, bathed in that crimson shade.

The band worked its way down the hill, nearing its first stop, the CD store where they where supposed to meet up with Bill. Zack noticed that they were basically the only ones on the street. Everything was calm, peaceful. It was like everyone in the city knew something was going to happen and had chosen to avoid it by hiding in their homes. It was like the calm of some big storm.

_Forget about it,_ Zack thought to himself. _They're just being safe that's all. After all, there have been some murders here recently._

Ahead, he saw that a long line of people had formed. This was the first sign of their destination; the second came as they drew closer. There was a large sign that read MUSIC JUNKIE. He smiled a little at the truth in such a name. In some strange way he, himself, had become a music junkie. After all, it had taken over his life, and he knew how hard it would be to turn away from it. Simply put, he was addicted.

When the band came into clear view of the line, there was an eruption of voices. People screamed and waved at Zack and his friends, but they all just walked, acting like they didn't notice the huge amount of eyes focused intently on them, all except Josh. He smiled and waved happily at the crowd, absorbing their ambiance. Quite a turn from the same man who had nearly punched a man in the face for asking for an autograph.

He was always the one closest to the fans. He absolutely adored them as much as they adored him. He was always the one hanging out with people after shows, meeting with them and talking about things, normal things. He like to stay connected with the people.

The band entered the store from a special entrance. Zack was amazed at the shop, mostly for its size. Honestly, he had been expecting a small, local shop, but what he got was a large store. Rows upon rows of CD's took up most of the space, but on the walls were other displays. They seemed to have everything that was related to music in some way, shape, or form. They had posters, shirts, and even bobble heads of the more famous artists. Next to the counter, the store owners had setup a large table with four chairs behind it.

A teenage boy approached the band, seeming to come from nowhere all at once. Zack knew he was an employee from the black polo shirt he wore with the words MUSIC JUNKIE stamped onto them, but his appearance was anything but that of a respectable employee. His hair was colored to a toxic green and his face was adjourned with a countless number of piercing. He knew it was rude, but Zack couldn't help himself from staring at the boy's piercings. _If the other residents of the hotel thought we were weird, I wonder what they'd think about this guy,_ he thought, trying to suppress a smile.

"Glad you guys made it!" The green haired kid exclaimed happily. "We have a lot of people clamoring to see you. If you guys were just a little later there might have been a riot!"

The boy with all the piercings led the band to their seats at the table, and Zack took his without question. Next, the crowd was let in, and they rushed towards the table like a bunch of stampeding animals.

The next half hour was filled with handshakes, pictures, and autographs. Zack autographed everything from a bare skin to a stuffed tiger. This went on for nearly half an hour, but time seemed to slow down. That half an hour felt more like three.

When the last hand was shook, Zack sighed with relief. While Josh loved the fans and the attention, he did not. This was for one simple reason. They drained him of his energy. It was like every one of the fans he saw were vampires, sucking his energy not from the neck, but from the hand with each harmless handshake.

"Well, that's the last of them," Drew remarked next to him. From the sound of his voice, he was as relived as Zack to see them go.

"Thanks a lot for coming here, guys," Mr. Green Hair said. "We got a lot of business from you."

"Trust me," Josh said humbly. "It wasn't a problem at all. We loved it." He got up and shook the kid's hand, then walked away. Zack and the rest of the band followed. When they were outside, Josh turned back towards them with a look of worry on his face.

"Did any of you guys see Bill in there?" he asked with a hint of concern. "He said he'd meet up with us here."

Zack only shook his head, as did the rest of the band. Not one of them had lain eyes on the man since they had left the hotel.

"That's weird," Adam commented, rubbing his beard as if he was thinking deeply. "He probably just decided to go to the concert and skip over this store."

"Yeah," Drew agreed, trying to console his friend. "He might have been running late, so he decided to just head to the concert. No big deal."

Josh looked between the two of them, looking a little content with their answer, but when he spoke, he didn't sound that much more pleased. "I guess you're right. I'm just worrying over nothing."

"If it would make you feel better," Zack said, "we could call him and ask where he is."

"Good idea."

Josh pulled out his cell phone and dialed Bill's number. Actually, he didn't press more than one button. That was the miracle of speed dial.

Josh's look of concern only grew with the call. After a just a second (not nearly enough time for Bill to have answered) he flipped the phone shut. "His phone was off. It went straight to voicemail."

Zack put a reassuring hand around his brothers shoulders. "Don't worry, buddy. He's probably out getting laid and doesn't want any…interruptions."

Josh laughed along with his friends, but Zack didn't think he actually meant it. It was a farce, a sham, a trick. He knew that while he was laughing and enjoying the company of his friends, Josh was really worrying about Bill's safety. And why not? The man had became his second father.

xXxXx

They entered the theatre from the back, away from the mass of a crowd being driven in like cattle.

Guarding the back entrance (reserved for only the bands and their special guests) was a large man wearing a security uniform. Large was actually an understatement. The man was like a giant among mere men. After all, how many men were 6'6" and weighed over 300 lbs. He had short, red hair. He stared at the band, thick arms crossed, eyes glaring down menacingly. He stood tall and massive like an ancient sentinel. If Drew didn't know the man personally, he would have been scared shitless. Anyone would.

Josh tried to pass the large man, but he put his arm out, blocking Josh's entrance.

"Gonna need to see an id." the large man said with a stern face.

"Oh, come on, Terry," Josh said. "You know who I am."

"How would I know who you were without an id?" Terry asked with a hint of travesty in his voice. It wasn't a lot, but it was there. To Drew, it looked like the man was suppressing a gigantic smile, and he was doing a good job of it too. Right now, the man's face seemed to be carved of stone.

Josh turned to look back at the rest of his friends with a large smile on his face. He shrugged and looked back at Terry. He proudly flexed his arms at the giant. "I got your id right here!"

Terry looked at him, as if sizing up his opponent, then finally burst with laughter. Josh joined him and clapped his hands friendly across the giant's back.

"You guys have to hurry," Terry said. "Head Hunter is just finishing up. Megan is having a fit in there."

Drew laughed at that remark. It was easy to imagine their stage manager running around madly and threatening to cut-off his balls if he didn't show up soon. In fact, he had heard her make that threat more than once in his life. Luckily, he hadn't been on the receiving end of those threats. Not yet, at least.

The band said their quick goodbyes and moved onto the backstage. Instantly, Drew's ears were bombarded with intense, heavy metal music. To him, nothing was sweeter than the heart-pounding drums, the gut-wrenching bass lines, the screeching guitars, and the powerful vocals. It just filled the body with wonderful adrenaline.

"Uh oh," Adam remarked. Drew couldn't hear the words, but he clearly saw them form on his friend's face. He turned to match his gaze and saw her.

Marching towards the group was their very pissed-off stage manager, Megan Birch. To some, she was as sweet as candy, but that sweetness was apparently running low. Right now, her mood seemed to have shifted from candy to hot sauce, hot tempered and burning anything that it touched.

"Where the hell have you guys been?" Megan began verbally assaulting the group. Her voice was loud and clear, even over the loud music. It made Drew cringe slightly.

"Why did Willy take his sweet time in bringing you guys here?"

For a moment, all of them just stopped, looking at each other with confused looks on their faces.

"We walked," Josh said matter-of-factly. "We thought Willy was already here."

"Are you serious?"

"No joke," Josh said, throwing his hands up in front of him.

A look of dawning realization came to Megan's face as she started to pace around the backstage, muttering to herself. "Just great!" she exclaimed vehemently. "That means none of your equipment is here either! And you guys are on in ten minutes! What the hell are we going to do!"

"Relax," Drew said, taking her by the shoulders and setting her off to the side. "We can just play on the other bands equipment, they won't mind."

"Right, right," she responded, nodding her head.

Drew smiled reassuringly, but on the inside he was frowning with worry. _Willy still hasn't showed?_ he thought. _What could possibly be holding him up?_

xXxXx

"Everything is already set up over there. John never even bothered to disassemble it after they finished playing. Just make sure you don't knock the mike off your floor tom. It's a little loose," Matt Don, Josh's drum tech, said to him.

"Yeah, gotcha," Josh said, nodding his head. Him and his drum tech were standing off stage, watching the rest of the team set up their equipment. The drum set Josh was going to play on was already set up and ready to go. He was just as ready to start. "So what are you going to do after the show?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I'm going to finally get to spend some time with my newborn baby girl." As Matt said this, his eyes lit up with pure mirth. "You have to see her, man. She's got the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

"I'm sure she does."

"I mean it, man. Tell you what. After the show you gotta come over to my place and see her for yourself. She'll make you wish you had one of your own."

Josh slid on his drumming gloves with a smile. "Alright, I'm in. You just have to promise me that Samantha will whip up some of her famous home cooking. I swear you're the luckiest man in the world. No one cooks like her."

"Don't have to tell me that," Matt said, still smiling.

On stage, a recording started to play. It was a slow, creepy synthesizer that sang out by itself. Though the music was slow and ambient, it was relatively calm. It was in fact an instrumental pieced together by the band as an intro to their first CD. When in concert, it was used to the same effect.

"Give 'em hell," Matt said from behind Josh.

The crowd started cheering with the arrival of the music, aware of what it promised. They started to chant, "Last Man Standing! Last Man Standing!" Already, Josh's stomach was starting to churn. He wasn't nervous. No, he had done too many shows to be nervous. It was just the butterflies in his stomach, dancing in anticipation. It was the same feeling he got every time he was about to go on stage. It was the feeling that made Josh remember why he did this. He figured the day he didn't feel the butterflies would be the day he quit music.

Breathing in deeply, Josh walked onto stage and took his place behind his massive kit. It was show time.

xXxXx

Bill O'Brien, commonly referred to by the lovely nickname Willy, was walking out to the bus. Carefully, Willy put a cigarette into his mouth. With one hand he lit a match and the other he used to cup the delicate flame, protecting it from the harshness of the wind. It was a nasty habit, but it wasn't the only one that he practiced.

He looked up, watching the sun make its stunning climb behind the mountain woods. For some, the scene would have shown with radiance and sparked something deep inside their souls, but for Willy, it did nothing. His hands hurt far too much to enjoy the backdrop.

Five years ago, his hands began to experience the sharp pains of what was called arthritis. At first, he waved them off, thinking: _I'm far too young to be experience this crap._ That was true. There was only an unlucky few who were stricken with arthritis at the age of thirty-six. Willy sure was lucky.

Lucky like the time he had found out about the cancer growing in his lungs.

Cringing slightly from the pain, he walked past the nearly vacant empty parking lot towards his goal. It stood at the far end, parked where no one could see it easily. The windows of the bus glinted playfully from the dying sunlight that shone onto its surface.

He forgot about the bus and focused back on his hands. They ached something awful. There were days were the pain was almost unnoticeable and he performed to near normality, near that was. Then, there were days like today were he was lucky to even be able to curl his hands into half fists.

"Damn this," he cursed absently to his pitiful excuse for hands. "Tomorrow better not be worse or I'm seriously going to consider just chopping you both off. At least the pain will be gone."

_I would give anything to be rid of this pain, _Willy thought absently. Soon someone would take him up on that deal, but it would be a steep price that Willy wouldn't enjoy.

He was now up to the bus. Looking up, he was astonished to the see the door of the bus opening, swinging open in the wind. _Someone's been inside and forgot to lock up!_ he thought sourly. _The whole band probably got cleaned out, and guess who they're going to blame? Me, that's who._

Angrily, he walked up the stairs, hoping that nothing had been pillaged from the bus. Absent mindedly, he closed the door behind him. He had been expecting to see the entire bus turned upside down from some city thugs who had gone ransacking through it. He was surprised to see that it was in tip-top shape. He was also surprised to see a man standing in the middle of the aisle with his back turned to the older bus driver.

The man was larger than Willy by about two inches and fifty pounds (but that wasn't a big deal; Willy was thin and gangly), and he wore a dark business suit.

"Hey, man, you lost?" Willy said in a voice that suggested it was a threat not a question. The man still said nothing. He didn't even move. _This guy is high on something,_ was the first thought to enter his mind when he noticed the man was still staring at the empty hallway.

He walked up to the man and placed a hand on his shoulder. Willy shuddered at the touch. Even through the fine Italian suit, he could feel how clammy the man was. To him, it felt like he wasn't touching a man. It felt more like mannequin, or anything else that resembled a human but lacked a brain and soul.

The man finally turned around, staring eye to eye with the bus driver.

All the air he had just breathed in was locked in his lungs. The cigarette fell loosely from his mouth. In his state of shock he had forgotten the second half of breathing. The man stared at him with eyes as clear as glass. They looked milky and shrouded, almost like he was empty. His mouth opened wide, revealing his yellow teeth. Spittle slid down the side of his lips.

Then came the worst sound in the world. Deep from the man's chest came a soulless moan that shook every bone in Willy's fragile body.

His legs gave out from underneath him and he collapsed to the ground, still not taking his eyes off the man in the suit. He managed to land right on the still lit cigarette which burned his rump, leaving an ashy stain on the bottom of his pants. He didn't even feel it. His eyes were locked with the man's.

"Sta…stay away from me, man," Willy muttered through chattering teeth. "I…I mean it." The man paid no attention to him. He only grasped Willy's brittle shoulders and brought his lips down to the exposed area of his neck. The spotless lips were clean no more as his teeth sank deep into Willy's neck, spilling blood onto his lap.

The bus driver screamed in pain as the man in the business suit tore off a large piece of his flesh and muscle. His screams of pain were muffled by the sturdy walls of the bus. No one heard him.

The first victim of the night had been claimed.

* * *

A/N: _There it is. Sorry for the long wait. I had been hoping that I could do this in steady installments, but I guess it wasn't meant to be. I want to thank AnimeSola for leaving such a great review. I didn't expect one so quick, and what you said really meant a lot to me. As long as I have someone reading my work, I'll be glad to keep the pages flowing. Just like before, don't forget to leave your comments. I want to know what the readers think. Take it easy. _


	3. Showtime

**Ch. 3- Showtime**

"Last Man Standing! Last Man Standing!"

The chanting filled Zack's head, even from backstage. There couldn't have been more than a thousand people in this venue, but it sounded like each and every person was vocalizing the steady mantra. He was overwhelmed by it. They had played plenty of shows in their five year run, but never had the crowd been this powerful. It wasn't like they were playing to a thousand people; it was like they were playing to one giant with the voice of a thousand.

He smiled to himself. _This is going to be a show to remember._

He gave a quick look behind his shoulders. Yes, everyone was ready. Megan was giving him an impatient look that said, _Hurry up already! You're on!_

Zack took a deep breath and walked onto the stage.

The crowd's chant changed into a loud scream of joy as the band took center stage. The singer ran around the edge of the stage, reaching down to the crowd and giving high fives to everyone in his reach. A foul smell came into Zack's nostrils as he bent over the crowd. There was the familiar smell of sweat and alcohol (not entirely uncommon at this events), but there was something else. Something unfamiliar to him. He pushed the thought away from his mind as he picked up the mike from its stand. The rest of the band was already in their positions as he picked it up. "How is everybody doing!" he shouted into the mike. "Is everyone having a good time?" The question was answered with a loud yell from the crowd. "Good to hear," Zack spoke calmly. "Now, for those of you too drunk or stoned to know, we are Last-Man-Stan-ding!" He pronounced the last three words slowly, syllable at a time. Again the crowd presented their approval with a deafening scream.

Zack nodded his head in approval and smiled the smile that had so many fan girls swooning. "That's what I want to hear! Now, I want to see some circle pits opening up, or I'm going to be severely pissed." These words struck instantly. As if he was Moses parting the Red Sea, three circle pits materialized in the throng of the crowd. "Now that's more like it!" Zack voiced his liking. "Alright! Now, we're going to play something heavy because I don't think any of you have the balls to get this place moving!" This statement was greeted by cheers and boos from the crowd, but Zack took it all in. He waved his hands before him, ushering them to bring it on. "Let's see what you got. This one's called Internal Combustion! Now set it off!"

The crowd grew silent as Josh began to play his drums. His opening solo was jaw-dropping, but no one could truly appreciate it merely by listening to the CD. No, it had to be live for it to take in the full effect. Zack could see the concentration on his brother's face as his head began to bob with the steady rhythm. It was slow and steady, but it was slowly gaining momentum like a train first starting its engines. Zack heard the yell of someone voicing their admiration. After a few seconds, Josh was joined by Drew and Adam. Adam's distorted guitar was loud and heavy compared to Drew's sharp, yet clean bass line, but both rang clearly and loudly. The riff was repeated over and over in a crescendo , each time picking up more speed than the later. Now, the train had finally reached its stride, but it still kept gaining speed. This continued until Adam guitar was screeching at a blistering pace, punctuated by Josh's toms. Amazingly, Josh and Drew managed to keep up with the frantic pace. Then as suddenly as it had picked up its tempo, everyone stopped; they had silenced their instruments together. It was as if they all shared the same mind and were connecting their instruments into one. The train had stopped, suddenly, all at once. This was Zack's cue.

_Three… two… one… _Zack counted slowly in his head, breathing in deeply. On "one," he let loose a loud and powerful scream as the rest of the band started a different rhythm at once with him. This one faster, but far less complicated then the drum beat that had initiated the song. Zack held the shrill note as long as he could until he ran short of breath. Once he ran out of breath, the riff shifted to that of the pre-verse which consisted of Drew's lone bass playing the main verse riff. It was two quick changes of pace, one right after another, but the effect was huge. It was remarkable how well they all played together, starting and stopping all mutually. After one measure of this bass line, the rest of the band jumped right back in.

Zack began to belt out the lyrics with ferocity. He had gotten quite good at screaming and his vocals never seemed to falter, even after a concert. He had finally made a job singing (though some may not call his particular talent "singing"), something not many could claim to do. As he had grown up, his parent's had discouraged him and his brother from making their music. "Focus on athletics and scholarships," they had said. "They'll be your future, not metal." Well, Josh and Zack sure had shown them.

The chorus was not as fast or technical as the verse. Instead, it was slower, more rhythmic in structure. Adam's distorted riff was memorable and after the concert, Zack was sure nearly everyone would have it stuck in their head. He kept up his relentless screaming vocals, but this time he was backed up by his brother. While playing the main beat of the chorus, Josh screamed into the headset perched upon his head. The dual vocal assault was the main highlight of the chorus.

Zack crouched over the edge of the stage and stared straight into the face of a man about his age. He could smell the alcohol laced on the man's breath, but he didn't move away. He screamed the lyrics of the song straight into the man's face. The man didn't seem to care, in fact he seemed to enjoy it. His face lit up with joy at being selected for this honor. Zack backed off from the man and screamed two words. "Internal Combustion!" He then raised his hand with the microphone towards the crowd as they repeated the message in unison. Perched there on the stage, Zack almost was toppled over from the vocal bombshell that had been dropped. The song then progressed back into the verse.

As he peered into the crowd while singing, he saw something semi-amusing. He could see Terry's crack squad of security rushing into the crowd, where a fight was seeming to be taking place. It looked like someone had gotten a little to personal in the mosh pit. Amused, Zack watched the security guards while screaming the words to the song. They had reached the pre-chorus before the actual chorus. This consisted of an instrumental with the band, excluding Zack of course. Adam now took the lead, playing as he flung his wild head around in a frenzy of hair. This gave the singer the chance to realize what was going on.

_Oh my God!_ Laying in one of the circle pits was a huddled man with a another man crouched over him. _He's fucking eating him!_ Zack thought with dawning horror. It was true. In the center of the circle was a man actually _eating_ another man. People had formed a circle around the two fallen men, mesmerized, highlighting the scene in a way that made it far too easy for Zack to see what was going on.

Even with the distraction at present, he was still screaming the lyrics. Most likely out of habit then of an actual conscience effort. After playing a song for as long as he had, things seemed to be robotic. He never faulted in his performance, even when his mind was occupied with something else. No one else in the band seemed to notice what was going on, for they showed no signs. He was sure his face was pale and stunned, but he tried to push what he was seeing away from his mind. _Terry will take care of it. Just try and focus on the concert. You don't want anyone else to notice it._

As the song progressed into the break, which was a dramatic change from the chorus that had been prior, he looked away from the macabre scene, trying to focus on the lyrics. The tempo suddenly switched to a much slower, lighter part. Zack calmly sang with the now clean, undistorted guitars. His voice was soft and melodic, something you might not expect from someone who seemed only to be able to scream at the top of their lungs. Josh's drum beats had altered from a pulsing double bass beat to that of a much more serene rhythm. However, before they could move onto to the next step of the break, which consisted of a guitar solo provided by Adam, part of the crowd erupted into panic.

The man who had just previously killed/ate another man was now finishing off his next victims. The two security guards who had valiantly flung themselves at the man were now lying on the cold, hard floor in a pool of their own blood. The crowd did not treat these new deaths as lightly as they had the first. What had been disbelief was now terror. People around the two fallen security guards fled from the area. The rest of the crowd had no idea what was actually going on. Now, the rest of the band had witnessed that latest event, but still they played on. Zack was amazed at how well Adam was still managing to play his solo even with all of the chaos. His finger's moved with an uncanny velocity across his frets.

It wasn't until the mysterious guest actually stumbled on stage that things began to drastically spiral out of control. Zack noticed the man was different than what might be previously expected. He couldn't walk right. It was as if he was way past drunk. He shambled towards him with his arms outstretched drunkenly. As he came closer, Zack noticed the most disturbing thing about this man.

_This man is nothing but a walking corpse._

The man was white, the color of freshly fallen snow, and Zack could only assume he was as cold as it too. His eyes were blank and empty. They seemed to be rolled into the back of his head like he was trying to stare at his own mind, but Zack knew better. The vacant gaze was focused entirely on him, but at the same time it wasn't on him at all. More like the man before him was staring past him, or into the depths of his very soul. The animated corpse (as Zack now referred to the man) stumbled closer and closer to Adam, whose back was turned to the monstrosity. The gap was now less than two yards. He could see the fresh blood flowing from his mouth and the new splotches appearing on the man's used-to-be-white shirt from the dripping blood.

Zack wanted to call out a warning to his guitarist, but he found he couldn't say anything. Every noise he tried to make died in his throat. He could only watch in horror as Adam turned to see the man himself, just a little too late. The man bit deep into Adam's neck, right where it met his shoulder. Everyone had stopped playing their instruments now, making it far too easy for Zack to hear his companion's pained screams. Adam managed to push the maniac off of him, but that was all the strength he could summon. He fell to the floor, looking up at his attacker.

Now the shit had hit the fan. After witnessing the guitarist being attacked _right _on stage, the entire crowd erupted into panic. Those who didn't flee were either way too drunk or stoned to even realize what was going on.

The man shuffled closer to Adam. The guitarist tried to drag himself backwards, but the deranged man was slowly gaining ground.

Even as the man who had killed four people (to Zack's count) approached Adam, he was still frozen in his place. His feet seemed to be magnetized to the ground by some unknown force, the most powerful force he had ever been faced with. The force of shock, or maybe even paralysis. He was moved from this state when he saw Josh come seemingly out of nowhere and tackle the man/corpse that was actually making a grab for Adam's shoulders.

_Too slow!_ a voice said to Zack from within his mind. The voice seemed to be foreign to him, at first, but he soon recognized it as his own. _Because you were too slow to save him_, _your brother had to get involved. You're lucky he came to, Adam was almost zombie chow. _

Zombie…

Even now the phrase was just beginning to register with Zack. This man before him certainly had all the trademark qualities of a zombie, the living dead, but Zack's rational mind had not put all the pieces together at once. From this, he had never actually thought the man was a zombie. They only existed in movies and stories meant to frighten those with squeamish hearts, but all the evidence pointed to them. However, there was one definite fact:

The _thing _Zack's brother had just tackled was definitely not alive.

xXxXx

Josh had seen the man progressing towards Adam and had reacted almost instantly. He squeezed his way out of the entrapment that was the expansive drum kit and sped towards the assailant full-force. Memories of high school football flashed back to him. Suddenly, he remembered all of the old emotions associated with the few seconds of that big hit. He remembered the apprehension of how hard the hit would impact yourself and the joy of knowing how much the collision would hurt the other guy, but when you honestly didn't care how bad you hurt yourself, when all you wanted to do was hurt the other, you felt cold, empty. That was how he felt now.

Ignoring the nostalgia that was sweeping over him, Josh ran full tilt into the guy, not just ramming him with his shoulders, but full-force tackled him. His arms wrapped around the man's waist, and he realized this man was more screwed up than he had realized. The man released no heat, his skin was as icy as the blizzard wind. His body also seemed to be slack. To Josh, it felt like he was nothing more than one of the tackling dummies he had used in his four years of high school football.

The impact of the collision set both Josh and the man he was assaulting flying off the stage. It almost appeared like they were attempting some sort of stage dive. Except, there was no crowd to catch them. Josh heard a sickening _Crack! _as his weight collapsed onto the man beneath him. No doubt the sound of ribs being shattered. What was worse was the sensation of hitting something squishy, jelly-like. He would half expect himself to be imprinted in the side of the man in some sort of cartoonish way. As for Josh, the only damage he sustained was a loss of breath. He rose to his feet, winded, and took another glance to surmise the damage caused to this man.

_I think I killed him, _were the first words to insert themselves in Josh's thoughts, and he only felt a twinge of remorse, small twinge at that. The man had after all killed three others (_with his teeth! _Josh's mind reminded him) and attempted to take out one his best friends, but did any man really deserve death? That was, ultimately, the worry of God, but on occasions it fell into the hand's of man. This time it had fallen into Josh's hands, and this time he thought it was well deserved. The man lay crumpled on the floor. The man took deep, raspy breaths that pained even Josh's chest, just at the sight. It definitely appeared that the man's ribs were broken. His chest side seemed to be concaved on the side where he and the drummer had landed on the cold, hard ground, after a good seven foot fall from the stage, and he was again reminded of leaving his imprint in a wall made of jell-o. Even with the obvious deformity to this man's structure, he managed to stand up as if he felt no pain at all. A single moan escaped his wet lips. That sole sound made every hair on the back of Josh's neck stand him. It was inhuman.

"No way," the drummer muttered, completely stricken with incredulity. _He acts like nothing has happened. Like I didn't just tackle him down a seven foot drop, _he thought while backing away from the man who now came at him with the same sluggish pace as always. What else was Josh to do? If a broken rib wouldn't even faze the guy, what would? Certainly nothing he could muster right here. It would take some sort of weapon like a knife or gun do to any real damage, and Josh knew that probably only the latter would really kill the man.

He felt the hard edge of the stage jut into his back. Quickly, (not daring to take his eyes off his aggressor for more than a second, should the man decide to make a quick lunge at the meat of his throat) he turned and placed both hands on the edge of the stage. He hastily raised himself over the edge. When his feet where finally planted on the wooden stage, Josh looked back down at his attacker. The man walked into the edge of the platform as if he was blind and dumb. After a few seconds, the man realized what was in front of him and placed two grubby hands on the edge of the stage. Without hesitation, Josh stamped down forcefully on both the hands, crushing fingers into an awkward display. His stomach lurched momentarily as he looked at the cruelly bent fingers, but it was quickly replaced with joy as he saw the man's hands release their grip. Feeling satisfied, Josh started to walk slowly backwards, watching the stage's edge in case the man decide to make another go at it.

Strong hands gripped Josh's shoulders, and for a minute he almost turned around to lash out at the attacker. He stopped himself only when he saw it was his brother, Zack. His brother's eyes did not meet his, instead they were focused on something else entirely. He spoke one solemn word:

"More."

There was more, but how much more Josh didn't know. He turned to face two more joining the first. Each was different, but similar in one important way: they all appeared to be walking corpses. There was a man wearing a biker's leather jacket that was all bloodied and tattered. The second was a young teenager with a tall black Mohawk. His mouth was caked with blood, as was his shirt. Both grabbed for the stage with dirty, bloodied hands. Josh wasted no time in turning around, grabbing Zack's sleeve as he did so. Together, they ran towards Adam's fallen form. Drew was already there, lending as much help as he could. As he ran to his friend's, Josh heard several gunshots ring out in the lobby. It looked like there were more of the freaks in the front lobby.

"Damn," was all Josh could say when he saw Adam's damaged shoulder. Drew had already ripped off a generous portion of his shirt and was using it to try to stop the bleeding. It didn't help much. Already, Drew's black t-shirt was stained with blood.

"We gotta get out of here," the bassist said, looking up at Josh with concern filling his brown eyes and his face a fearful white. "He has to see a doctor now."

"Right," Josh nodded. Behind him, he could hear the soulless moans of the cannibals shambling towards them. "Let's go!" Both him and Zack took their places at Adam's side, helping him move. Josh was careful not to upset his shoulder too much.

Adam smiled at their help. "Oh, you shouldn't have," he moaned sarcastically.

xXxXx

"Jesus Christ!" Megan shrieked when she saw the band come offstage, carrying Adam along. "What the fuck happened!" Her face was already growing pale and her eyes were wide with terror.

"That bastard bit him," Drew said. His face was still white as a sheet. "We need to get a hold of an ambulance. He's losing a lot of blood right now. And find Terry, we've got more people coming this one, and they don't look to friendly."

Megan didn't hear any of this. After the statement, "that bastard bit him," her mind went blank. It wiped itself clear with terror and she was left alone in the cold dark of her own mind. _Bit? Bit? Why the hell would he do that? What is going on here? He's losing a lot of blood. I bet he's going to die._

_"_Megan!" Drew shouted shaking her. "Damn it, you have to listen! People are dying right now!"

"Right…dying…"she muttered quietly, still not reacting to her surroundings.

Drew backhanded her hard enough to make her head pivot loosely to the side. It was the first time he had ever hit a woman. All his life he had been taught that it was wrong and that there was never a reason to do it. He thought that if he had ever done it, he would have been terrified and ashamed at himself. He was wrong. In fact, his mind barely even recognized what he did. He was aware that Megan was in common terms, "freaking out," so he had reacted in the only way he could think of. Now that he had done it, it didn't faze him. It was what had to be done.

"Drew! I can't believe you!" Megan screamed with hysterics. "Why did you-"

"No!" Drew yelled, cutting her off. "I don't believe you! Adam is hurt, possibly dying, and all you can do is stand here with your mouth open wide like some sort of dam carp! We need action!"

She turned, looking at the guitarist who was held carefully by the two brothers. His eyes had appeared to gloss over with white film, his skin was already grown pale, and he seemed to be muttering something unintelligible into Josh's right ear.

"Right, right," Megan said, still muttering and looking around confusedly, but at least her mind was working again. "Where's Terry? We need Terry. He's got the radio." She looked around but the giant was nowhere to be found. Quickly, she grabbed the nearest person to her. It was Matt, Josh's drum tech. "Go find Terry!" She yelled violently into the man's ear. "Tell him to get his ass to the backstage. Tell him if he doesn't get here in five minutes I'm going to personally cut his manhood off!"

Matt didn't need to be told twice. He took off like the devil himself was chasing him, pushing his way through the crowd that had gathered to watch the band's latest trial. Watching him go, Megan heard something she had never heard before. It was an unsteady rhythm of constant _Thump! Thump!_ Almost like someone was pounding at the door that led to the outside. Almost like someone was trying to beat their way in.

Megan turned her attention back to the band, her mind already starting to turn back into the finely tuned machine it was. "You guys head to your dressing rooms. There should be a med kit or something in there to stop the bleeding. Hole up in there until I give you the clear."

_(Thump! Thump!)_

"Yeah, sure," Drew nodded, then leading the group through the crowd that had gathered.

_(Thump! Thump!)_

Suddenly, there was a scream coming from the opposite way. Megan couldn't see around the mass of people to see what was going on, but she could make a guess. The men from onstage had found their way to the back.

_(Thump! Thump!)_

"Shit," she cursed under her breath. Then there was much louder noise as the door to the back alley (the same door Drew and the others had used to reach the backstage) flew open from the inhuman force that had been pushed behind. More of the sick people entered the backstage, tearing into whoever was unfortunate to get in their way.

Hands pushed into her from all around as those still living tried to make their escape. The smell of sweat and blood washed over her along with something else (fear, more than likely,). _Now would be a good time to get the hell out of Dodge, _she supposed. Megan turned to follow the fearful crowd, but was quickly spun around when someone clipped her shoulder. She fell to the floor. She hoped someone would show her the common courtesy of helping her up, but no one around her took notice of the fallen stage manager. Just as she was about to stand back up, she felt a hand grip her shoulders. It was wet and clammy with sweat. _Finally, someone's going to help me,_ was what Megan was thinking as the zombie tore into her jugular vein, killing her.

xXxXx

Steven Miller had been back stage with his son, watching the concert from the best spot in the house. You were right up front, up so close you could almost see the perspiration that shone on the performer's skin, but you didn't have to be worried about being shoved around by the maniacs in the pit. Yep, got you right up near the action. This meant him and his son were both right near the action as Adam got his neck bit into by some freak. Steve didn't have the sense to cover his son's eyes from the profane bloodshed. In fact, he was caught staring bug-eyed, his mind shutting down completely. To him, it felt like he had fallen unconscious, but he had been standing up the whole time, gripping his son's shoulders in a death grip.

It was his son's terrified screams that had snapped him from his state of panic. His eyes focused back on the scene before him. Josh was tackling the man who had attacked the guitarist, and Drew was helping the latter (who was losing quite a bit of blood from the looks of it). That meant it was true. He hadn't been daydreaming (more like day-nightmare). Without thinking, he dragged Michael backwards, carrying him off the ground with the extra spurt of adrenaline running through his body. He was barely aware of where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away from the stage, get away from the man who ate people. _He actually eats people!_ Steve thought hysterically. _Regular Hannibal Lector! Well, this is one guy that isn't going to make it on the menu tonight, no sir._

There was a door in front of him and he set Michael down so he could open it. Already his arms ached from carrying the boy. After all, Michael was no longer five years old. The day of piggybacks and rides on the shoulders were long since gone now that Michael was in his twelfth year.

He pulled his son into the doorway after himself without even bothering the least bit of what was in there. The thought that he could have been walking into a room full of Hannibal Lector's never occurred to him. It was impossible to think there was more people like that. Impossible!

For Steve, this would prove to be a night of impossibilities proved false. Just one item in a long list.

Luckily for him and Michael, the room was nothing more than a hallway with stark white walls. He moved down the hall, checking the doors on both sides of him. His head moved back and forth, eyes wide with fright and adrenaline. There were signs on the doors. All of them bore the name of some band or another. All were shut tight (_and probably locked too_, Steve figured) except for one. The door labeled LAST MAN STANDING was ajar slightly. Cautiously, Steve pushed the door open. It squeaked on its rusty hinges, but there was no one inside the room to hear it.

_Good, good, _he thought excitedly. _We can hole up in here. Lock the door and just wait for the police to show up. Once the cavalry gets here, we'll be safe. Safe and sound._ He pictured him and his son sitting on the curb next to an ambulance, wrapped in warm, soft blankets and sipping hot chocolate absently as the police asked them questions. A smile was already forming on his lips as he pushed Michael into the room and locked the door behind them.

Screams pierced the walls of the room, but it was impossible for him to tell where exactly they had come from. As if in response to this wounded cry, more voices screamed in response. However, in the secure room Steve had found, he was safe and sound.

Safe and sound. He liked the sound of that.

xXxXx

Adam was getting worse, and fast too. Josh was starting to get more and more worried with each glance he stole over to his friend's face. Now, the guitarist had digressed completely, and his head was rolled back, staring at the ceiling with glassy eyes. Looking at him, Josh would have thought he was dead if not for the guitarist's low, unintelligible ramblings.

"Car's…in…garage…"Adam mumbled to the ceiling. "All…gassed up."

"Just hold on, buddy," Josh mumbled, unaware he was speaking out loud. "You're going to be fine."

Behind him, he heard screams of pain. The freaks had gotten backstage, just as he had thought they would. If only they could find a place that was safe and just wait this hell out! If only Adam would hold on until help came! For Josh, there were too many "if anys."

Ahead of him, Drew opened a wooden door. The drummer briefly wondered what they would do if they only found another of the freaks on the other side of the door. The thought turned out to be useless, for the opened door revealed nothing by a blank white wall of a hallway. _The perfect color to compliment the crimson shade of blood, _Josh thought grimly.

They were in the dressing room hallway, where all the temporary guests that performed stayed during the concert. He knew that down the hall, third door on the right was their room. They would be safe in there, and there might even be a first aid kit!

Fueled by the thought of safety and something to help Adam, Josh motioned for his brother to keep going to the room. While the two brothers tried to complete the act of dragging the delirious Adam towards the door, Drew was knocking on the other doors to see if anyone else was in there.

"Hello?" the bassist inquired as he pounded loudly on a door. "Anyone in there?" There was no answer, nor was there an answer at the next. Or the next, for that matter. At the final door before the band's personal room, Drew got a response.

"Who is it?" a gruff voice demanded from behind the door labeled HEAD HUNTER.

"Jeff? Jeff, is that you?" Drew called excitedly, trying to turn the locked door knob. "Thank God! It's me Drew! Let us in. Adam's hurt real bad."

"Sorry, can't do that buddy," another called back with a remorse laden voice. It was Paul, the guitarist for Head Hunter.

"Yeah, there might be more of them out there with you," another voice, Tim this time, said. "They could just be making you trick us so they can get in here."

Now, Josh was a the door, still supporting Adam with one shoulder. He pounded hard on the door, making its shake in its frame. "Damn you guys! Open the door! He's going to die! So open the _fucking _door!

Jeff called back with a cold voice, but Josh thought he could hear Jeff's efforts to hold back the sobs and tears. "No." The word was so simple, yet it cut Josh deeply like a rusty knife.

"You're lucky I don't just break this damn door down!" the drummer called back angrily. Here was one man dying and whole band full of men he had come to know so well during this tour refusing him entry. All to keep their own assed safe. Josh's blood boiled with deep seated hatred and he wished that it was Jeff who had been attacked and not Adam. If it had been, Josh would have probably left him to fend for himself, just like he was doing to them. Let him see how it felt to have trust shattered and the knife plunged into your back.

"Forget him," Zack said from the other side of Adam. "We have bigger things to worry about."

_Leave him, _a cold voice whispered into Josh's mind. _They'll just break the door down later and he'll be screwed. Leave him. He'll get what he deserves._

That's what he did. After all, they had more important things to take care of, mainly Adam's recovery. Together, the two brothers brought the dying guitarist towards their last hope, their dressing room. Drew quickly grabbed the doorknob and turned.

The doorknob didn't move in his hand. It was locked.

"Who's in there!" Drew called angrily. "I don't care who it is. Just open up now! We have someone injured!"

"No," a scared voice said from behind the door. Drew and Zack didn't recognized the voice (Adam was to the point where he wouldn't even recognize his own voice), but Josh distinguished it easily enough. It was the man he had met in the hotel. The man by the name of Steve Miller.

Immediately, Josh was a the door leaving Zack to hold up the guitarist by himself. "Steve, this is Josh. Open up! Our friend is hurt badly."

"No," the man repeated a second time. Josh had already heard that word too many times tonight, and he wasn't going to heed it any longer.

He gave a warning. "You have three seconds to open the door until I bust it down. It isn't going to do a lot of good as a barrier if you can't even close it!" Slowly, he started.

"One…"

There was no response from the other side.

"Two…"

Now he heard the sound of footsteps moving hurriedly to the door. He also heard Steve mutter, "Don't do it" quietly from the opposite side of the white door.

"Three.."

Before Josh had a chance to strike the door, it flung open swiftly. Standing before him was the young adolescent boy he had seen earlier in the hotel as well. Michael had been his name, and Josh had the urge to hug the boy suddenly. He wanted to thank him for doing something no one else had done, helping him. He wanted to thank the boy for going against his father's orders. However, he didn't hug him. He only patted Michael's head affectionately as he muttered a thank you.

The room was left exactly as he remembered. There was a small sitting area set to one side of the room with four chairs set around a small coffee table. There was a large mirror set over a countertop used for makeup. On the other side of the room was a table set up with various sorts of pop and chips. Steve was standing in the middle of the room, looking at the band with wary eyes.

_He still doesn't trust us_, Josh thought. _He thinks we're going to attack him just like the guy out there. He's paranoid._

Ignoring Steve, the two brother's then helped Adam over to the coffee table and planted him in one of the chairs. The guitarist mumbled something, but there was not a single word in there Josh recognized.

_He's gone too far,_ he thought. _He's done for._

Drew was then moving quickly across the room towards the mirror and counter. He began searching erratically through the drawers until at last he pulled out what he wanted. The white box with the red cross on it looked like a gift from God in Josh's mind. He grabbed it quickly from Drew's hands and began digging through it. He pulled out some disinfectant, gauze, and large bandage roll. Carefully, Josh removed the makeshift bandage that had once been a shirt and dropped some droplets of disinfectant on Adam's shoulder. The guitarist cringed with pain when the clear liquid hit his open shoulders, and Josh actually sighed with relief. If he could feel pain, he was still alive. That was all that mattered. Josh decided to be safe and dropped some more disinfectant on it before wrapping the shoulder with the bandage and gauze. When he had gone over it sufficiently, he bit the end off the bandage and tucked it in so it wouldn't hang loosely. With Adam all patched up, Josh turned his attention to Steve.

"Mind explaining why you felt it was necessary to keep us locked out of our own dressing room!" Josh said with anger in his voice.

Steve met his unforgiving gaze and tried to compete with it, but he quickly put his eyes back down to the floor, defeated. "I thought that maybe one of them was out there too, and I didn't want him to get in here."

"So while we had a man dying out there you thought it was best to save your own damn ass!"

"Well…umm…" Steve's eyes moved frantically about the room, looking for the answer as if it was written somewhere on the walls.

"You know what? Forget it!" Josh said, throwing his hands up angrily. He wanted very much to hit this man, but he couldn't bring himself to it. Maybe if the man's son wasn't standing in the same room as them. He knew that nothing was more upsetting to a child than seeing their father beat up. To them, fathers were an invincible figure that none dared oppose, and if anything happened to shatter that sense of invincibility, the child's world was turned upside down. Michael was a good kid, and Josh didn't want to put him through that.

There was a loud strenuous moan, and Josh turned to see Adam rolling in his chair in pain. _There has to be more we can do,_ he thought. _I can't stand to see him just sitting here in pain. There has to be something more, anything._

There was nothing more any of them could do. The only thing they could do was just sit and wait. Wait for help to come, wait for the crazed men to find them and kill them, or wait for Adam to die of blood loss. Never again, in Josh's mind, would time pass so slow as he waited.

* * *

_A/N: There it is. I was worried that I might not get it up in a week's span of time, yet I pulled it off somehow. I want to thank everyone who has reviewed this so far (that means you AnimaSola, Remford, Olek Tamarani, and you Vrante). Like I said before, as long as someone is reading it, I'll keep writing, so don't be afraid to drop in a review and tell me what you think. I'm always waiting for a little feedback from the audience. So until the next installment (which might take a little longer to update). _


	4. Attack of the Living Dead

**Chapter Four-Attack of the Living Dead**

It had been awhile since Terry Wakefield had actually shot someone. The last time had been when he was a cop in Detroit, his hometown. Back then, there had been no hesitation, and today there was none either.

Terry was in the lobby when chaos had struck its violent chord. He sat at the bar, merely observing those entering the building. A rookie on the security team named Randy was frisking those attempting entrance. Linda also helped. Randy had to pat down all the men; Linda took care of the woman. If Terry had been watching those entering more carefully, maybe he could of stopped what was to happen, or maybe not.

There was a strange, but not unfamiliar, feeling in the pit of Terry's gut. It was a sensation that he had become very familiar with. The same feeling had been with him through those years as a police officer, and it had always served the same purpose. It was a warning. Call it a premonition or just instinct, but either or, he knew the shit was about to hit the fan. Terry just hoped he would find a way to move to the side before that happened.

One particular guy caught his attention. He was sitting at the same bar as the security guard, just a few seats down. The man was wearing a black t-shirt with the tour dates on it, one of the ones they were selling right across the expansive lobby. His drink lay untouched, clasped in a pale hand. The rest of skin shone with the same milky pallor and his light golden hair fell in front of his face loosely, obscuring his features. His head was down, resting on one of the crooks of his elbows. He looked like he had past out. _Probably just from drinking too much,_ Terry thought with indifference.

_Really?_ a voice asked. Terry knew that voice well– knew it as well as he knew the trepidation growing in his gut. It was the voice of some second part of his mind. Throughout his years on the police force that same voice had always spoken up when things had gone fishy. He didn't know whether the voice was his subconscious pointing out things he, himself, wouldn't have seen in the first place, or if it something more along the lines of schizophrenia. If it was the latter, Terry supposed everybody in the world could use a helping dose of it. _Or is that all you're seeing?_ the voice continued. _Use your damn eyes._

He looked, now observing much more about the man's appearance. More importantly, the beer cup that hadn't lost a single drop yet (unless from evaporation, that is).

_How can the guy be wasted if he hasn't drank a single drop yet?_ That was the golden question. Terry supposed that the man could have gotten more to drink before and was coming back and forth in between beers, or he could have even gotten drunk before coming to the show. Both were highly possible answers, but something just didn't seem to click. His eyes kept scanning over the cup, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Except when you finally put in that last piece, you didn't see a beautiful landscape or a pack of butterflies flying against the sun set before you; all you saw was a unconscious (probably drunk) man with an untouched beer.

_Maybe he's sick,_ Terry supposed. _Probably just got the flu or something._ He shrugged indifferently and took a shot of the whiskey set before him. He may have been on the clock and Megan would surely rip him a new one if she found it he had been drinking on the job, but he didn't care. It wasn't like he was getting hammered anyway. Just enough to get a buzz, nothing more, cross my heart hope to die.

Last Man Standing had finally taken the stage (Terry knew that easily from the screams of joy coming from the crowd), meaning they were on the homestretch of the show, on the homestretch of the tour. Smiling, he thought of his home back in Michigan. Unlike the band, he wasn't going to be summoned until another tour. Terry was no musician; he didn't have to write a new album. All Terry Wakefield had to do was enjoy the company of his family in the warmth of his home. Little Johnny was getting old enough to learn how to ride a bike, and he had made a promise to Jacob that he would take him fishing the first weekend he got back. He smiled as he took one last shot. He had a busy schedule ahead of him.

He got up from the bar stool he was sitting on. As he passed the drunk man (or what he thought of as the drunk man), the guy moaned heavily in his sleep and tossed his head. Terry sighed as he passed the man. He hadn't figured out what had gotten under his skin about that man yet. It was a strange feeling mixed with mystery and fear. Something was just not quite right with the man. That was all he could say about the matter because there was nothing more about it he could explain.

Suddenly, there was a loud beep on Terry's waist and he instinctively grabbed the walkie-talkie on his belt clip. "What's up?" he asked casually into the handheld radio.

"Jesus Christ! Boss, you ain't going to believe this," Bruce, one of his men, said through the small static. "But another fight just broke out. One man dead."

The last statement hung around him like a cloud of poisonous gas. _Dead?_ his mind questioned. _Impossible. We've never had a death on the show. Never! How could this happen?_

"The other guy ate him." Bruce said, seeming to answer his question. There was a small moment of shock were Terry actually wondered if Bruce could read minds, but then he was snapped back to reality.

"What was that?"

"The other guy _ate _him!" The words seemed to echo in Terry's mind.

_Did he say ate? _He glanced around quickly, seeing if anyone had heard, but no one took any notice of the security guard. The only guy who could have heard the statement was the drunk, blond character, but he was incapacitated, to say the least.

"Are you serious?"

"You heard me. He ate him. Me and Jason are going to get this guy, you get a hold of the feds."

This certainly was a predicament. Never had someone died at a concert he was supposed to be protecting. It was a fact he always prided himself on.

_Maybe if you hadn't been taken shots up here…_ the voice in his mind whispered.

Terry shuddered at the voice because he knew it spoke the truth. For the rest of his life, he would have the weight of that man's soul on his back. All because he had to have his buzz.

_Thud!_

Terry turned around quickly, surprised by the sudden noise. The drunken man from the bar had fallen off his chair, that was it, nothing more. Except, no sooner had the man hit the ground, he burst into a violent fit of seizures. Terry reacted quickly, moving over to the fallen drunk. The man's head lashed about wildly and he fought to stop the man from breaking his own neck from whiplash. He got down on his knees and placed the man's head in between his thighs, applying a little bit of pressure. The man's head stopped whipping around, but the rest of his body thrashed about as if he was doing some sort of insane tap-dance.

Looking down, Terry realized he still held the walkie-talkie in his hand. He knew what he had to do. All he had to do was switch over to the local police's frequency. Then he could call in an ambulance. Problem solved. Except in his moment of shock, Terry had forgotten which frequency it was.

_Think! Think!_ Terry urged himself. _Remember the damn number! If you don't, that's going to be one more person on your conscience. Think!_ He knew the number. He had specifically asked for it when he had arrived at the city just in case something like this was to happen. A lot of good that preparation would do if his mind locked down at the critical hour. _13? No that wasn't it. Was it 19? No._

_14! _the voice in his head yelled. _Remember? It was Channel 14!_

Quickly, Terry turned to that channel and held down the send button. "This is Terry Wakefield! We have an emergency at the Raccoon Theatre! One man dead and another is having seizures! I need help now!"

There was someone screaming in the lobby. They were probably screaming at the tap-dancing unconscious man in his lap, but the scream sounded like it was farther away. Like it had come from the entrance.

_What else could go wrong? _Terry thought sardonically. Wasn't it bad enough to have one man dead and another well on his way to the same fate?

Still, the line was silent. No one answered his frantic call for help.

Desperate, Terry tried again. "Hello? Anyone out there! I need some help!"

Still, there was no answer but the sound of more screams coming from the entrance to the lobby. Little did he know that the RPD had their own hands full at the moment. Their time was being spent trying to frantically answer and respond to all the calls that had flared up in Raccoon City at once. All similar to the predicament Terry was in.

He switched the frequency back over to the one all the security in theatre was using. "Bruce! I can't get a hold of the authorities. How's the situation in the pit?"

No answer.

"Bruce! What the fuck is going on in there!" Exasperated, Terry threw the radio aside in a fit of desperation. "Worthless piece of shit," he muttered under his breath. He looked down at his lap, looking at the blond haired man. The man was still now. Terry didn't have to check for a pulse on the man. He was dead as a doornail. He could tell by the way the man's chest stopped moving and how the man's skin was slowly losing its warmth.

There was another shriek of terror and this time Terry turned to see what was going on. The crowd of people in the lobby was erupting in panic. People ran every which way, trying to flee from something Terry couldn't quite pick out of the crowd from where he was. He stood up and peered over the crowd, which was easy enough to do with his size.

There was a riot outside, and a large one by the looks of it. There was a mob of people attempting to gain entry into the lobby. Randy and Linda were nowhere in sight. They had disappeared into the mass of human flesh. People tried to run away from the rioters, but some weren't fast enough. Terry watched in horror as a teenager was dragged down by a small group of the rioters. He screamed in agony as their grubby hands tore into his flesh, ripping him apart.

_What's wrong with them?_ Terry thought with panic as he ran towards the fallen teenager, knowing it was to late but trying to help anyway. His progress was halted by one of the rioters. A putrid smell surrounded the large man. It was the smell of a rotting carcass, of death. God only knew how many times Terry had come across that particular smell on his time on the force. He had been called to numerous homicides and suicides and that same smell always hung over the air in the room, choking those still alive.

Despite Terry's impressive bulk, he was still knocked down by the man. From the ground, he got the perfect view of the man, and the sight of him made his blood run cold. The man was large himself, but most of that weight came from the large beer gut that flopped over the belt of his pants. The obese man was covered in blood. It surprised Terry to see how much was on the man. It was on his camouflage vest, his thick beard, his pants, and his boot (one boot was missing, exposing a dirty foot caked with blood). The man was clearly a hunter, or had been one before he died. His eyes were listless, showing how empty minded and hollow this man was. A single wet moan escaped the man's bloody lips and he reached for Terry with his bloody hands.

"No!" Terry hissed as he lashed out with both feet, planting the soles of his boots into the man's pale, protruding gut. The man went stumbling backwards and tumbled over.

Terry wasted no time in getting back to his feet, drawing his handgun. He aimed his 9mm down at the man. "Don't move!" he bellowed in his most commanding voice. "Stay on the ground and put your hands on the back of your head!" The man showed no interest in what Terry was saying. Instead, he rose defiantly back to his feet. "I said 'don't move!'" he shouted again with authority. Still, the man came at the security guard. Terry didn't hesitate. He had given the man two warnings. Three strikes and you're out.

The pistol roared as Terry distributed the pressure to the trigger. The bullet found its mark in his target's right shoulder. The man turned with the force of the bullet, but otherwise, he was unharmed. He moved with his sluggish speed, drawing closer and closer to the security guard. He fired two more shots. They tore into the man, one in his chest and the second in his gut. The man still pushed on, seeming to ignore all the abuse his body was taking.

_I can't believe this! It's like my bullets are nothing but flies to him, _Terry thought with a sort of wonder and fear_. He should be dead._ He should have been dead, but like some kind of demon from the netherworld he didn't falter. Terry changed his target and aimed at the rotting face of his enemy. The pistol roared once more before the man slumped down onto his knees then onto the floor. A thick pool of blood and what appeared to be tiny chunks of brain flowed from his wound and onto the floor.

Terry only had a brief breath before he heard the shriek of another person. His attention turned away from the dead hunter on the floor to the front entrance. Countless others, others who appeared as sick as the hunter, swarmed into the grand lobby. The show was being overrun. Being overrun by the living dead.

Terry's mind stumbled over itself as he tried to make a plan. Here he was in a theatre that was being overrun by zombies. There had to be at least a hundred or so trying to get in, and he didn't have nearly enough ammo to stop them all. Everyone in the theatre was panicking, making it impossible for him to try to talk reason into them. With all these facts set before him, Terry couldn't figure out what to do. It was probably because of shock, but his brain just didn't seem to be running at full capacity tonight.

Something cold and wet grabbed a hold of his ankle. He turned to see the drunk, blond hair man grinning stupidly up at Terry's face. His hair hung loosely in front of his face, but that didn't block his eyes, which had taken on that blank stare that matched the hunter's. Long strands of saliva dripped from the man's open mouth as gazed hungrily at the security guard's meaty calf.

"Not today," Terry mumbled under his breath as he brought his foot down. The man lunged his head forward, but his progress was cut short as Terry's boot came down on the back of neck. There was a sickening crack of bones snapping, and the blond (but definitely not drunk anymore) man stopped moving.

"Jesus Christ! How did that happen?" Terry wondered aloud. Then with horror, understanding finally dawned in his mind. It didn't come slowly, but more like the shots of the gun he had fired not just a minute ago. _He had appeared normal before, but something in him triggered the change. A virus maybe?_ He didn't know the exact cause, but the effects were simple enough to follow. _Then, he changed into one of these ravenous beasts. Just like the hunter too._ That point made Terry think of something else. It was a chilling, horrific thought. _How many others were like that man? How many others changed or are going to change?_

Terry didn't know the answer to that one, but the thought alone was chilling enough. There were almost a thousand people at this particular venue, not including stage personnel. If even half of them were infected, that still left five hundred, nearly invincible, cannibal corpses.

Behind Terry, there was the entrance to the general admittance, under the remarkable set of twin, marble staircases. From that entrance, countless people stampeded their way from some unseen evil. He couldn't tell what they were running from, but he had a pretty good guess. The problem was, if they were running from a group of the zombies, they were about to run smack dab into the other group of undead that were entering through the front. They were jumping from the frying pan right into the fire. Terry had to stop them from making that mistake.

He stood tall with his arms spread wide before him. "Stop!" he yelled with the loudest voice he could muster. He heard it echo of the expansive ceiling even over all the commotion, yet no one else seemed to register it. "There are more of them out here! It's not safe out here!" Still, no one heeded his warning. The first person of the exodus managed to slide past the security guard without touching a hair on his head, but the others did not.

It felt like he was hit by a tidal wave. The thick scent of sweat and blood hung over the air as people pushed him from all sides, trying to get by. He managed to hold his ground, but just barely. He was now in a mosh pit, fighting to stay standing, fighting to keep him self from being trampled.

Suddenly, a pair of hands grabbed onto his arm. The hands were warm and friendly, much different from the cold, dead hands of the zombies. It was a relief to feel the warmth of the living once more.

"Terry!" the person yelled. Terry turned, locking eyes with Matt Don. The man's blue eyes were filled with fear. "It's Adam!" the drum tech screamed over the chaos. "One of them bit him! The others need your help backstage!"

Terry grabbed the smaller man's shoulders. "Hide somewhere while I go get them. We'll be back to get you!"

Matt nodded his understanding. Terry returned the nod and started walking against the fleeing crowd. Matt watched the giant disappear into the throng. With his job completed, the drum tech turned to the bar. He pushed his way through the crowd to the safety of the counter. When he reached it, he planted both of his hands on it and flung himself over.

Behind the cover, he felt better, safer. He heard the screams of those who were caught by the crazies, but he couldn't see the torture they were experiencing and that was a relief. On his way to find Terry, Matt had seen what had happened to those unfortunate enough to be caught by them. One woman had had her guts torn out of her stomach as she kicked and screamed for help. The guts flew through the air like party streamers. Another person had had their neck bitten into. One more had actually had his eye ripped out of his socket and the crazy had feasted on it as if it had been a grape. Matt's stomach lurched at the memory and he couldn't' hold it back. His throat burned as the bile and acid in his stomach came back up.

With that done, he wiped his mouth. _Don't worry about it,_ Matt reasoned with himself. _This all just a nightmare. A pretty gruesome and detailed one at that, but that's all it is, a nightmare. Just relax. No one actually got their guts ripped from their stomach, no one got their eye torn from their socket, and Adam certainly didn't get attacked by one of them. _Except, he forgot about the burning in his throat from throwing up. Dreams didn't get that detailed.

Matt locked his arms around his knees and rocked back and forth. Tears were starting to pour down his eyes, and they stung (another little reminder that this was no dream). He was slipping slowly and slowly into hysteria, and he didn't even realize it.

He found himself thinking of his darling Samantha and Emily, his baby girl. _I gotta walk up soon,_ he thought simply. _When I do, I'll go see Emily. I'll watch her sleep peacefully in her crib. That always makes me feel better. Then after that, I'll hug Samantha and go back to sleep. Then I'll never even remember this nightmare._

As Matt rocked back and forth, one of the zombies (which Matt had dubbed "them") was slowly stumbling his way over to the hysterical drum tech. In a past life, it had been a bartender by the name of Eddy. A rat a couple of days ago, and ever since then had bitten him, Eddy hadn't been feeling so hot. He had thought the rat had been carrying some sort of infection, nothing serious, but a nuisance all the same. This morning he had felt a little better, so he thought he would try and head to work today. Right now, Eddy was far from feeling better. His condition had taken a sudden turn for the worse.

As he approached the man, drool rolled down his chin in gooey strands. Never had he been so hungry. His mind screamed at him, and it said only one thing: _Eat!_ He moaned as he got closer. This was it. Now he would eat.

Matt heard the low moan behind him, and reacted quickly. He turned and saw the bartender reaching for him. With a startled cry, the drum tech rolled away. He swore he heard the crazy bartender grunt with disappointment, but that could have been nothing more than his imagination. Quickly, Matt stood up and rolled over the counter without thinking. All he knew was he had to get away from that man, and in his panic-stricken mind there was only one way, over the counter.

His feet barely had a chance to hit the ground before he was bowled over by some unknown person. Whoever it was didn't even mutter an apology. He just moved on, oblivious to whomever he had just ran over. He was like a scared animal.

Matt tried to stand, but a foot pressed itself into the square of his back, pushing him back to ground. Then another foot pressed into his arm. Then another, and another.

_It's alright,_ Matt thought, with a hint of a smile. _It's just a nightmare. Now I'll wake up and kiss Samantha, and everything will be alright._

Matt Don was not eaten alive like most of the others that night. He was trampled to death.

* * *

_A/N: In case you couldn't tell right away, I decided to shorten the length of this chapter in half due to me thinking that the chapters were getting too long for their own good. Maybe now the chapters will be the same length as this one, maybe not. As of now, it is hard to discern the future of this particular fic. Once again, I want to thank those who have been reviewing. It really is nice to hear some feedback from the audience. Because I have spring break right now, the next chapter may even be up by this weekend. That is, hopefully be up this weekend._


	5. Into the Cold, Dead Night

**Chapter Five– Into the Cold, Dead Night**

"Now what do we do?" Zack asked, standing in the corner with his arms crossed.

Josh sighed. "I guess there is nothing left to do but wait." He paced the room back and forth like an animal trapped in a cage, and that was how he was feeling about the room now. Before he had viewed the room as a salvation of sorts, but now it seemed to be the opposite. The heaven they had sought had suddenly turned into a hell where time seemed to drag on forever. Seconds became minutes, minutes turned to hours, and through all of this Adam's health was declining steadily.

The guitarist had finally teetered into an almost comatose state. Josh's heart would skip a beat every time he glanced over the guitarist because it really did appear that he was dead. Only when he saw the slow rise of Adam's chest did he realize he was still alive.

"Shit," Drew mumbled under his breath.

"Wait for what though?" Zack asked.

_For Adam to die,_ Josh thought grimly. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but when faced with stress, the mind did little to sugar things up. There was only the hard truth.

"Wait for help, I guess," Drew said. "The police have got to be on their way now. It's only a matter of time before they get here."

"But what about your friend?" a small voice asked.

Josh turned, surprised, to see the boy Michael. In his moment of anxiety, he had completely forgot about the Miller family. The two of them in chairs around the coffee table, staying completely silent, letting the band discuss the plans between themselves.

"The police will bring an ambulance with them, and then he'll be fine," Drew reassured. Drew's statement didn't really seem to be assurance for the kid though. It seemed to be there for everyone.

Briefly, Josh wondered how long they had been here. To him it felt like it had been almost an hour and the wait was agonizing. It felt like there was an ice pick jammed into his heart, and as time passed, it slowly edged its way deeper and deeper into him.

His eyes turned once more to Adam's form. He was collapsed in one of the chairs. His eyes were closed, but his look was far from being peaceful. His lips were drawn tight and his brow seemed to be furrowed as if he was in great pain. The dressing on his wound had already turned a light shade of red. He didn't have a lot of time left.

"Drew, redress his wound," Josh said as he moved across the room towards the door. "This wait is killing me. I'm going to go see if I can find any help."

"Wait," Steve spoke up. "What if they're waiting outside in the hall? You'll let them in."

"No one's out there," Josh said matter-of-factly. "They would have tried to get in already."

"You don't know that."

"You're right," Josh said. "But at this point, I'm willing to take my chances. If you don't want me to leave, stop me." The man looked back down to the ground after the threat. Josh had just met the guy, but already he knew this man would avoid any confrontation with him. He now turned his attention back to Drew, ignoring Steve. "Lock the door behind me. When I come back I'll say 'Drew, I need help.' That way you'll know it's me."

"Alright."

Josh opened the door and peered cautiously to both sides. It was clear. Nothing but an empty hallway.

"One more thing," Drew said from behind him. "Good luck."

Josh nodded grimly and closed the door behind him. He heard the faint metallic _click_ of the lock being set. He headed towards the room that the band Head Hunter was hiding in. Though he had originally felt hatred towards them for not letting them in, that anger had quickly dissolved. Now all he wanted was to get them out of that room. He wanted them to join up with him. After all, there was strength in numbers.

He knocked three times. "Jeff? Paul? Tim? You guys still there?"

There was no answer, at first. Just when Josh was about to give up, a gruff voice spoke up. "Yeah, we're here."

"You guys have to come out of there. Come next door with us. We'll be safer."

There was a laugh from the other side, and Josh didn't like the sound of it. It was a crazy laugh for someone who had finally snapped under pressure. Now he was starting to have second doubts about requesting assistance from these guys. "Nice offer, but I think we'll have to decline on that one."

Josh couldn't say he was surprised. He had thought that Jeff and the rest would be hard to convince, but he thought he could do it. He just had to be a little persuasive. "Why not?" he asked in a casual tone.

"It's safe in here. That's why. Why should we risk our necks out there when it's perfectly safe in here?"

"But how long is it going to be safe?"

There was a silence on the other side. He thought he had struck a chord. He had gotten them to think about what they were doing and the consequences of it. Josh didn't wait for an answer. He had to strike while the iron was still hot.

"If a group of them came, it wouldn't take them long to break in there. You're not going to be safe for long." Still no answer. A smile lit on Josh's face. He thought he had gotten through. They had seen the light. Now he would hear the lock being undone, and then he would see Jeff's form standing before him. That was why he was shocked when he heard their retort.

"Still don't think so."

Josh's jaw may have dropped a little at the remark, but he didn't know for sure. He was completely and utterly confused. He thought he had a finally gotten through to them, but he had been wrong. If reason couldn't get them out, only one thing could: force.

"Alright, I see how it is!" Josh yelled, making sure he was being heard. "If I can't talk you out of there, I can always force you out! I'm going to break this door down and drag you out by your hair!" With that said, he stepped back, ready to charge after he heard their response.

"Don't do it," Jeff said. His voice was low as if it was ashamed of what it was saying. "We have a gun in here. If you break that door down we'll shoot you, swear to God."

Josh couldn't even reply. He knew they would probably say no, but threatening him was something he did not expect. This was the man he had spent the last three months with. They had drank together. They had played shows together. They had been like a family for the past months, yet the man was threatening him. Josh couldn't believe it.

He sighed deeply. "Fine. If that's how it's going to be. I'll leave you alone. You guys can stay in there until hell freezes over for all I care, but I want you to know, if you change your mind, the offer still stands."

Josh turned away from the door, disheartened. The first time he had turned away from this door, he had been angry. Now, he was saddened. Somehow, he knew that this would be the last time he talked to the band known as Head Hunter. That was no way to say goodbye, but what else was he to do? He knew that if he did break the door down, they would shoot him. He knew that from the way Jeff had laughed at his original proposition. No sane man laughed like that. Josh knew he would never forget that desperate, crazy laugh.

_Bam! Bam!_

Josh's head perked up at the sound of the gunshots. His original worry was that Jeff had decided to cap Josh in the back as he was walking away, but in the seconds that passed he realized he wasn't hurt at all.

_Bam!_

One more gunshot. Now, Josh could tell it was coming from in front of him, not from behind. Someone was here after all. They were saved!

He moved towards the sound. They had came from the door leading backstage. Before he knew it, he was running. In no time flat he was at the door. He didn't rip open the door— as was his initial reaction— instead, he pressed his ear to the door, listening for more gunshots. Sure enough, he heard one more shot, much louder this time.

Cautiously, he opened the door. Part of it was he didn't want to find a bunch of the freaks on the other side, and the other half of it was he didn't want to get mistaken for one of the freaks and inadvertently get shot in the process.

When the door was wide enough to see out, Josh had quite a surprise. He had been expecting a group of police officers (or maybe even a SWAT team), but he certainly hadn't been expecting the giant security guard Terry to be standing there. His back was to Josh, but there was no mistaking him with anyone else. A mob of zombies were pushing their way forward, and there were too many for the security guard to tackle alone.

"Terry!" Josh yelled before grabbing the larger man and yanking him backwards, all in one motion. He did this just in time, for a woman wearing a black skirt lunged at the man. He managed to pull him away in time to avoid being bit, but Terry didn't avoid being scratched. The woman's long, manicured nails left a criss-cross of scratch marks across the security guard's shirt. She must have gotten deep enough too, for the mark began to shine red with blood. Terry managed to get his revenge though. Before Josh slammed the door shut, he fired a single bullet into the woman's mouth. Obliterating her jaw in an explosion of blood and teeth.

The two of them collapsed against the wall, breathing heavily.

"Shit," Terry muttered, placing a hand across his chest. It came away with a crimson shade of paint on his palms. "That bitch managed to get me pretty good."

"Yeah she did," Josh agreed, looking at his friend's chest. "You're lucky though. She almost managed to get you with much more than a scratch on the chest. She almost took a bite out of your neck."

_Yeah like Adam, _he thought morosely. _Speaking of which, do you think he's dead yet? Probably is._

_Shut up!_ Josh commanded.

"Matt sent me to find you guys," Terry explained. He looked around the empty hall. "Where's the rest of the band? I don't see them here."

"They're in the dressing room. We've been waiting for the police to show up."

Terry let loose a long and exhausted sigh. He looked up at Josh with forlorn eyes. He looked like he was trying to find the right words for something, but then he gave up with another sigh. "There isn't going to be any help. I tried radioing in the police but the didn't answer." He paused. "Can you believe that? They didn't answer the radio! They must be pretty busy not to answer that."

"Are you saying the whole city is being attacked by these things?" Josh asked, dazed by the concept.

Terry only nodded his head in response.

"Then we have to get out of here," Josh said.

"Damn straight," Terry agreed. "This whole place is being overrun by the bastards. It won't be long until the break down this door." As if to nail Terry's point home, there was a loud _thud!_ as some of the people on the other side began pounding on it. "Shit," Terry cursed before moving to the door. He pressed his massive body against the door, holding off the zombies' attack.

"Go get the rest of the guys!" he commanded. "I'll keep them out of this hall until then." Josh was already ahead of him, taking off down the hallway as soon as he heard "go."

He passed the door labeled HEAD HUNTER and briefly considered stopping. Maybe now he could convince them to leave. _It'd be a waste of time,_ he thought. _They wouldn't change their minds at all. Leave them._ That would have been a sensible thing to do, but Josh wouldn't do that. It felt too much like betrayal. He couldn't just leave them to their certain deaths. He decided he would get his band out of the room first, then he would try to talk the band Head Hunter into leaving.

He would never get that chance.

"Drew! Drew, I need help!" Josh said, banging on the door. In half a second, the door was flung open and Josh was staring into the teary eyes of Drew. He didn't even need an explanation, the look on his friend's face told all, but the bassist felt the need to explain.

"Adam's dead," he said, choking back tears. Josh turned to where the guitarist used to be sitting. His form was covered by a blue sheet. He recognized the sheet easily. It had come from the snack table. He looked over to confirm this and saw how the pop and chips and been tossed to the floor with little difference.

"When?" was all Josh could say. His voice sounded small and weak, and the words seemed to get caught in his throats.

"Almost right after you left," Zack said, moving over to where the rest of his band (it would take Josh a little while to realize the band was now down to a trio) stood. His eyes were not red with tears, but his face had lost a considerable amount of color. "He said something that sounded like, 'that was some fucking show, huh?' So I thought he was doing better."

"I asked him how he was doing and he even answered that." Zack's eyes seemed far away, and Josh realized he wasn't just telling what had happened, he was reliving it. "He said, 'could be doing a hell of a lot better.' Then he laughed. He actually laughed, and I couldn't help but smile with him. He looked better. He looked like he was coming through. I took his hand and said that you were going to get some help. He had said, 'don't worry about it. It's too late for me. You guys have to get a new guitarist.' Then he looked back up at me and he was _still_ smiling. Then he spoke for the last time. He said, 'you were right. I am a lousy guitarist. I couldn't even finish my fucking solo.'" Now, a tear did run down his brother's cheek. One lonely tear.

"We have to go now," Josh said. He hated having to leave now. He didn't want to leave one his greatest friends behind like a broken piece of machinery. There would be time for mourning, but now wasn't the time or the place, but he still wanted to give his friend a proper burial. That was just something that couldn't be done.

Drew looked shocked. "But why? Shouldn't we stay and have some kind of…I don't know, service?"

Josh only shook his head sorrowfully. "We can't. There's more of the freaks coming this way, and only a frail wooden door stopping them."

Now Steve spoke up. "Wait, you're telling me there's more of them out there? How many?"

Josh sighed and shrugged at the same time. "Honestly, I don't know. Could be almost a hundred of them."

Zack let out a long whistle.

"Then we gotta hide!" Steve said, almost hysterically. "We gotta find somewhere safe where we can wait until the police show up."

Josh gritted his teeth apprehensively. This was the second point he had to bring up, and it was surely going to make Steve hysterical. He decided to try and find the best words to use, but couldn't find any. There was only one, straightforward way. "There isn't going to be any police." He paused, waiting for an outburst, but there wasn't any. Everyone just seemed to stare vacantly at Josh as if he had a second growing from his shoulders.

"Terry tried to get them on the radio, and there was no response. He thinks the whole city may be under attack. That's why we have to get to somewhere safer."

"You're crazy," Steve said with a voice that was barely above a whisper. "If you go out there, they'll tear you apart."

"If they find you in here, you'll be the one in pieces," Zack argued, moving to his brother's side. "I'd rather try and escape then just waiting for me to die."

"Hell yeah," Drew said, moving over to the two brothers. "Makes sense to me. Adam would have wanted to leave too. He hated being tied down to one place for too long."

The group of survivors had formed two lines facing each other. The band that had been known as Last Man Standing formed one line, while the Miller family formed the other. It reminded Josh of a game he used to play as a kid, Red Rover. Already he could here the nonsense rhyme forming in his head. _Red Rover, Red Rover,_ _send Steven over!_

"Fine, fine," Steve said, sighing dejectedly. "If you guys are just going to leave us, it'll make more sense for us to follow. There's safety in numbers, right?"

"Sure is," Zack said, clapping a hand on the scared man's shoulders and leading him out of the small room. Everyone followed out, leaving Josh to himself. The drummer looked over to the fallen body of his friend Adam. He just laid there, sleeping peacefully, and Josh smiled at the image. At least it was done now. Adam wouldn't have to suffer through anymore pain.

"Goodbye," he whispered to the guitarist as he gave a half-salute. He turned and shut the door behind him.

_Wait a minute, _Josh thought as the door shut quietly behind him. He looked back at the wooden door, confused and shaken for a moment. _Impossible, _he thought finally. _You're just imagining things._ Yes, he had to be imagining. After all, there was no possible way he saw the sheet Adam lay under move. He saw only a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eyes, and he had sworn that Adam had awoken or moved at the very least. That was impossible though.

_But is it?_ Josh thought. He looked back once more, and he thought about opening the door just to take a peek. One little peek couldn't hurt. Josh's hand moved over the doorknob. He turned it, but before he could actually open it, he heard the crack of splintering wood and Terry's voice boom throughout the hallway.

"Shit! They're breaking through!"

The door and his friend forgotten, Josh ran off to where Terry was desperately trying to keep the door from being knocked down. Long cracks were forming on the doors body, but nothing had broken through them yet. They looked like fault lines of some earthquake.

"Forget about it," Josh said, grabbing his friend's arm. "We have to get the hell out of here!" He pulled the security guard away and the two of them took off sprinting down the hall, side by side. With no one to block the door, it wouldn't last long with all those people pushing on it from the other side. Josh knew this before the door burst in an explosion of wood. Sharp splinters flew off like pieces of shrapnel from a grenade. One of the large pieces managed to lodge itself in the back of Josh's leg, but he didn't notice. He was pumping his arms and legs, moving towards the door held open by his brother. He managed to spare one furtive glance behind him and saw all of the people pouring through the doorway like blood from a fresh cut.

The door slammed behind him, and Josh suddenly realize where he was at. It was the lobby. In the course of five short minutes, the lobby had changed from a scene of chaos and confusion to one of carnage and slaughter. The first thing he noticed was how much blood there was. It seemed to be everywhere— on the floor, the walls, running off the bar and forming sticky, congealed pools. The second thing he noticed was the bodies. There weren't as many as he thought there would be (he had originally believed that they would have occupied the entire floor of the lobby), but they were disheartening still. This was because of the positioning. Nearly everyone had died with their eyes open. Josh looked down and saw a middle-aged man staring up at him with wide, frightened eyes. He could almost here the man's last thoughts as he died, and they hung in his mind like an accusation, or maybe even a curse.

_Where were you when this happened? Hiding like a coward? You let this happen. You didn't save me. You didn't save Jeff. Did you forget about them? You know, they're being torn apart right now because you didn't get them out of there. You didn't save me. You didn't save Adam either. He died because you were too slow to stop him from being attacked. Then, you were too slow in getting him help. You weren't even there when he died. You abandoned him. You abandoned— _

_Shut up, _Josh thought, kicking the man in the side. No one saw him do this, and Josh was thankful for this. He didn't want the others to think he was losing his mind.

_But you are, aren't you?_ Josh thought. _After all, sane people don't hear voices from the dead._

_BAM!_

Josh was awoken from his daydream from the gunshot. The others had moved forward, carefully avoiding the fallen bodies as if they were pieces of road kill. His eyes had been drawn towards the blood and the corpses, but they had skipped over one very important detail. The group of survivors was not alone in the lobby. Crazed people starting to make their way towards the group of the living. The moved slowly, arms outstretched, and moaning as if they were great pain. Josh was starting to realize these weren't people. People didn't rip other human beings apart limb by limb, nor did they shuffle aimlessly around moaning. Josh wasn't sure if they were truly zombies— the living dead, undead, or whatever else you wanted to call them— but it certainly seemed appropriate.

There was a good amount of them moving towards them— Josh put the number around two dozen. Terry had already brought out his handgun and was shooting at the closest ones. Blood sprayed from their heads in a fine crimson, coating the floor with more of the liquid. Drawn by the gunshots, more of the zombies were coming towards them. They seemed to be melting out of the shadows, materializing from thin air. What had once been a group of two dozen was now pushing fifty. Terry seemed ready to take the odds though. He kept firing into the crowd, dropping zombies left and right, but it was doing no good. More and more of them kept coming.

"Forget it!" Zack yelled. "There's too many of them! Follow me!" He turned and ran towards the archway formed from the joining staircases. More zombies were coming from that way, and Josh almost shouted for his brother to stop his suicidal run when he suddenly changed course and ran towards the staircases themselves. Josh followed, falling in close behind Drew and the Miller family.

There was a zombie at the top of the staircases. It made a lunge for Zack, and Josh bit his lip with apprehension. What if Zack was hurt?

_It'd be your fault, one more person you couldn't help,_ and on the tail of that thought: _You didn't save Adam._

Luckily, the zombie didn't touch his brother. Zack sidestepped skillfully and then pushed the zombie down the stairs. "Look out!" he warned as the zombie tumbled past the others. The smell of rotten fruit washed over Josh as the zombie rolled past him, finally landing at the bottom with a sickening _crack! _as its neck snapped. Josh stopped just long enough to see the neck hanging loosely to the side. To him, the man looked remarkably like a discarded puppet.

When he reached the top, he looked back. The zombies were already filling in the space of the roomy lobby. They didn't cover the entire area, but it was a definite step-up from when there had only been about two dozen.

Terry reached the top shortly after Josh and took a look backwards. "I forgot about Matt," he said, beating himself up over his loss of thought. "I told Matt to hide out here until we came back to get him. Shit, I'm so stupid how could I forget." He peered over the crowd searching for a sign of the drum tech. "Matt!" the security guard bellowed loudly, but there was no answer. Josh joined him in his search, hoping against hope that he would be safe. _If not,_ the cold voice reminded him. _You didn't save him. Just like how you didn't save Jeff._

Josh managed to push the thought away as he looked for Matt. He couldn't afford to be distracted right now.

"Don't worry about it," Drew said behind him gravely. "He's not coming." With a pale hand, the bassist pointed to the bar. Lying facedown a few feet away from it was the drum tech. Though he was a fair distance away, Josh thought he could see the faint outlines of shoeprints all over the poor kid's back.

"Let's go," Terry sighed, disheartened at the loss of another familiar face.

Josh looked down at the zombies. They seemed at a loss at how to use stairs properly. They would manage to make it up a few then only fall flat on the face, but they always rose back up and kept moving. _Persistent bastards, _Josh though as he turned to join his friends.

Unlike the main floor (also known as the pit), the balcony was situated with rows of seats much like those of a movie theatre, though the plush red seats might not be as comfortable as they had once been. Blood was sprayed over the seats, some were torn apart, and in a few there were still bodies slumped over with their throats torn out and other various pieces missing. There were, however, no zombies present and this Josh was thankful for. They moved one, steering clear of the seats and those who still sat in them. He didn't know if zombies would pretend to be dead, but he didn't want to find out.

He heard a moan behind him. It appeared the zombies had finally discovered how to make it up the stairs with little trouble. Almost a dozen were now shuffling their way towards the group of survivors. They moaned with joy— pain, anger, or sadness. It was impossible for Josh to tell— as they moved. Their calls seemed to echo in the building. The call was answered by those in the seats next him. They rose slowly from the chairs as if they had been summoned by the cry of the others. He wondered briefly if Adam was rising now from that call, and the thought chilled him.

"Go, go, go!" Drew ushered. They ran towards their only salvation, a neon EXIT sign. To Josh, it looked like a lighthouse beacon, guiding all those around it to safety. He felt a cold hand brush against the hair on the back of his head, but the zombie didn't manage to grab a hold of him. To his right, another came from one of the aisles. Josh reached out and gave it a hard push that sent in back down to the floor. Steve had made it to the exit first and had already disappeared out of it. From where he was at, Josh could see it was a fire escape.

_Good, _he thought with a small amount of happiness, still pumping his arms and legs furiously to reach the door. _If they had trouble with stairs, there is no way they can handle ladders._

Ahead of him, a zombie made a lunge for the small boy, Michael, but Terry shot it skillfully between the eyes before it could do any damage. The body fell to the ground in a heap and Josh leapt over it deftly. A wave of dejà vu swept over Josh. This seemed familiar to him, almost as if he had dreamed of something like this.

_Except, then, it was wood, _he thought for no apparent reason at all. _Now, it's a zombie._ Josh had only a second to consider what he had just thought before he was out the door and on the fire escape. He had left the theatre behind him and had went into the cold, dead night.

* * *

_A/N: Another one bites the dust, as Queen would say. I have to say, I'm proud of myself for getting this one up so quickly (not to blow my own horn, so to speak), but that only means the next one will probably take longer to come up. It's like some form of karma, I guess. I think I may have found a good size for my chapters, but I'll probably keep tinkering around with it to find out what works best. If you have any suggestions, I'll be glad to hear them. Once again, I want to thank all of you who have reviewed this fic. All of what you have said really makes me feel good about this piece of work. Thanks. So, drop in a review if you feel like it. I'm always ready to listen to your thoughts and feelings._


	6. A Disturbing Discovery

**Chapter Six— A Disturbing Discovery**

"Shit, the ladder's broken," Zack announced.

"Then we have to jump," Drew answered.

"No way," Steve instantly objected. "We could break our legs."

"Fine," Terry said, pushing his way past the group and towards the broken ladder. "Stay here, but you'll have to deal with them." He gestured casually over his shoulder to where Josh was. He was leaning with all his body weight against the door. So far, the zombies hadn't begun pounding on it, but they would be in any second.

With that said, Terry took one moment to measure his jump and then leapt carefully down to the ground.

"Whoa, could you feel that?" Zack said sarcastically to Drew. He leaned over the edge, calling down to Terry. "It felt like an earthquake when you hit the ground. Maybe you should try losing a few pounds."

Terry smiled back and shot him the bird. Drew laughed along as well. Granted, it wasn't the best of times to be laughing and smiling, too many people had died to do that, but it was definitely a stress reliever. Laughing made you forget about the zombies, the people who had died, and Adam, just barely. Thinking of the guitarist made Drew's heart sink. It wasn't fair. _Adam should be laughing with us,_ he thought sorrowfully.

"You're next, smart ass," Terry yelled up to Zack.

"No problem," the singer said before leaping down. He landed and sprung back up quickly, throwing his hands out to the side as if saying, _Ta Dah!_ Terry only chuckled and muttered under his breath.

With Terry and Zack on the ground that meant there was two down, and four to go.

Drew looked to his right. "You go," he said to Steve. "I'll wait till both of you are down."

The man looked over at the bassist with wide, terrified eyes. He looked back down at the ground, gulped then looked back. "I'm not so good with heights," he muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, and I'm not so good with zombies either," Drew said back, with a hint of a smile. "Guess we both have to face our fears sooner than later."

"Right, right," Steve muttered distractedly. He was still staring down at the ground fearfully.

"Do it for him," Drew whispered into his ear, gesturing towards Michael. "You don't want him to think his father is a coward, do you?"

Steve shook his head. "No, don't want that."

"Good. Then on the count of three jump." He paused making sure the man was ready. From the looks of it, he wasn't. In fact, he didn't he look like he was ready to ride a merry-go-round. He looked petrified as if his fear had turned him into a stone. Drew sighed, there was nothing more he could do for the man but count off, and if he didn't jump, well then, Drew would just have to push him.

"One…two…three…"

Steve surprised Drew. On three, Drew had already been moving his hands towards the small of Steve's back, readying himself for the push. Steve had other plans, however. He actually jumped. His landing wasn't as dexterous as Terry's or Zack's. Instead of landing nimbly on his feet, he hit the ground and rolled awkwardly a few feet. He still got back up, brushing himself off and smiling. "See, Michael," the man called up to his son. "Nothing to it."

"You're next," Drew said to the kid next to him.

Unlike his father, the kid was quite calm. He nodded briefly before leaping down to the ground. He even landed better than his father, managing to touch the ground and bound back up in one liquid like motion.

"Nice one," Zack said, moving in close to the kid so he could pat his back.

Drew couldn't help but smile himself. The kid had guts, that was true.

"Go!" Josh shouted from behind him. He was fighting to stay in control of the door. There were several large _bumps _and _thumps_, and Josh was struggling greatly to keep the door shut. Every once in a while his strength would fail and one of the zombies would manage to get a hand out, only to have it crushed revoltingly when Josh slammed it shut again. Drew also noticed that there were several dents in the metal where the people inside had beat on the door.

Without another word, Drew turned back and jumped down. The moment he hit the ground, pain shot into his feet. Tiny clouds of dust appeared and floated in the air before dissipating back to dust. He turned around quickly, ignoring the protest his legs made at the jump, calling up to Josh. "Alright, I'm good!" he shouted up. "Now get out of there!"

Drew waited a second before he heard footsteps pounding on the steel mesh. Then a figure was leaping into the night air, descending upon Drew. "Jesus," the bassist muttered before jumping to the side, managing to avoid the falling figure.

Josh seemed to land in a sprinter's position, ready to take off. He stood up, smiling faintly. "You almost got pulverized," he chuckled lightly. "Good thing you're quick on your feet."

"That's only because someone decided to treat me like a bullzeye," Drew joked back. "Crazy bastard nearly got me too."

A soulless moan pierced the night air above them, ending the jokes.

"You don't think they'll come down here, do you?" Michael asked. He stood next to his father, looking up at the fire escape with fear and curiosity.

"Good question," Terry answered. "They don't seem smart enough to find a way down, but that doesn't rule out the possibility of them just falling off the fire escape."

"Yeah, but if they do that, a lot of them will break their necks or their legs," Josh said. "Meaning, we don't have to worry about them. As long as we don't stand here gawking up at them like we are."

They moved on, leaving the moans and shifting shadows alone on the fire escape.

xXxXx

_This is absolute chaos_, Zack thought as he gazed upon the streets. The streets had been nearly abandoned when the band had made their way to the concert (to the point where he had thought it was a ghost town) but now, people ran in terror down the street, blind to those around them.

A couple ran down the street, holding hands, until they passed by a seemingly deserted alley. A pair of hands grabbed the young woman by the shoulders, dragging her down to the ground where it would be easier for him to feast on her. The man who had been with her turned to help her, but he was quickly bowled over by the alley-attacker's friends. Somewhere something exploded. _Probably a car, _Zack thought to himself. On one of the higher buildings a figure hurled itself off the roof, landing out of Zack's view, but he heard the car alarm from the man landed on a car. Some people were deciding to take advantage of the panic. They broke into the windows of a few stores, grabbing what they could. Another woman was chased by a pack of zombies. A few more of the undead approached from in front, sealing off her escape. In a desperate attempt, she grabbed the door handle of the closest car. Luckily for her, it was unlocked, but unluckily for her, she was now surrounded by a small group of zombies who proceeded to beat on the windshield. She wouldn't last long in her steel prison. A truck whizzed by, rolling over a few zombies (and a few normal people, too). Like Zack had thought, it was absolute chaos.

Zack looked around for a police officer. At this point in time, he wanted to find anyone who could help, anyone with authority, anyone with a fucking gun. There was none in sight, but he could hear sirens fading in and out in the night air, and he also heard its corresponding sound, gunshots.

"Let's go," Terry said, moving out into the streets with his gun drawn. "We have to find the cops."

Zack followed, saying nothing. All of his attention was being driven to his surroundings. Someone bumped into him, nearly knocking him over, but he kept on going. His foot stepped into something wet with a _splash!_ but he didn't look down. It could have just been a puddle of water, or it could have been puddle of something much less unclean. He could go the rest of his life with out finding out.

It was amazing what Zack could pick up with his eyes. There was a trashcan that had been knocked over, spilling its contents onto the hectic streets. In it, he could see a box of Chinese food that had been seemingly untouched. Up on his left was a child's teddy bear, abandoned on the street corner like some sort of apocalyptic sign. Zack didn't have any kids of his own, but he knew about them to know that a child would never willingly discard their own bear. He didn't like thinking where the other part of that equation was. His sharp eyes noticed more than he really wanted to— there was the shoe that lay on the side of the road, bits of shattered glass that were reddened with blood, an expensive cell phone laying on the crushed on the ground, a half-eaten hamburger. The list went on and on. That was why Zack was relieved when Terry finally led them to a building and went inside. His eyes saw that the windows on this one weren't shattered and that the door was in decent shape, meaning this particular housing unit was abandoned.

It was an antique store, by the looks of it. It was hard to imagine the rows of useless knickknacks as anything but antiques. The place was dark, probably to keep the attention off of it. Even with the dark, Zack could see the place was still tidy. Not a single trinket out of place. A thin layer of dust had accumulated on some of the objects, but other than that, there was nothing else wrong. Most importantly, there was no blood and no zombies.

They moved quietly through the rows of objects, listening to the silence of the store and hearing the chaos of the streets. There were a few gunshots and even another small explosion outside, but inside the store, things were deathly quiet.

_Not a very good choice of words,_ Zack thought with little humor. Suddenly, a deep moan shattered the silence of the store. It had come from behind the shelf to their left. Terry's hand instantly jerked up, pointing the gun at the noise, and Josh and Drew both grabbed the heaviest, strongest object the could find (which turned out to be a clay pot for both of them). There was another moan, but it carried on, finally drifting into a pained cough.

"Do zombies cough?" Drew whispered into Zack's ear. He was still carrying the clay pot, holding it defensively out in front of him.

"I don't know," Zack whispered back truthfully. He then pointed to where the sound had come from. "Do you wanna find out?"

"What if it's someone who needs our help?" Michael said quietly from behind.

The words seemed to spark courage in Josh, for he began to move down the aisle, trying to find a way to the other side. "I don't what it is," he said as he moved, still carrying the pot. "But I'm going to find out." He disappeared into the darkness on the other side.

"Wait," Terry said, moving after him. "You think that piece of pottery is going do anything to a zombie?" He too disappeared.

Zack held his breath, listening for any signs of struggle. He heard nothing but screams from outside. _Come on,_ he prayed. _Please don't let it be a zombie. Please keep Josh safe._

His prayer was answered. In a few moments, Terry called back to the group. "It's fine. Come on over."

What they had thought was a zombie was actually the store's owner. Zack saw Josh and Terry standing next to the counter. He noticed that the register was open and empty. Maybe the storeowner had decided that it was time to go, or maybe someone decided to take advantage of the situation and rob him blind. Zack remembered the people he saw who had been stealing electronic appliances and placed his money on the latter of the two.

Huddled against the wall next to the counter was the storekeeper. He was a tiny man of Asian descent. He wore a simple white shirt and pants. The shirt was torn on the right side, exposing a nasty wound. Flesh from the man's side had been ripped off and Zack thought he could see one of the man's ribs poking through the gash. His stomach lurched at the sight, but he managed to choke it down. The man was panting heavily like a dog and his head was rolled up, staring at the ceiling. His right arm hung uselessly down and his left was draped across his body, clutching at the wound. Zack could see that the man's hand was already a deep red as if he had been finger-painting.

Josh grabbed an ancient looking tapestry and wrapped it around the man's side, creating a makeshift bandage. The man objected weakly, swinging his arms, but the drummer easily over powered him.

"No!" the man yelled weakly. "That's ancient Chinese work of art! It's priceless!"

"I think that right now, a ruined tapestry is least of your worries," Terry said. He spoke without taking his eyes off the streets. Zack followed his gaze and saw handfuls of zombies shuffling by the window, but they paid no attention to the group inside the building. Across the street, a young woman whose neck was ripped open grabbed a man. She sunk her teeth into the man's neck. At a glance, it looked almost like a happy couple making out, but Zack knew better. He turned his attention back to the Asian storekeeper, not wanting to see the grisly scene.

"Don't worry," Josh said reassuringly. "You're going to be fine. Just lay there and relax."

The man gave a short chortle of laughter, but said nothing.

"Where's the person who did this to you?" Drew asked, looking around at the empty store.

The man raised a shaking finger to the corner of the room. Huddled in the corner was a dark shadow. Zack couldn't see any specific details on the body, but he saw a dark puddle forming at the man's feet. The stoke keeper pointed to the ground next to him. Lying there was a .357 magnum.

Josh reached over and picked it up. He opened the barrel and looked at the chambers. "Four shots," he said simply, before snapping it shut again.

The storekeeper nodded solemnly. He couldn't talk anymore. He only raised his right arm towards the huddled figure in the corner. He turned his hand into a mock gun and pulled the trigger twice. The action was simple enough to understand.

The man then moved his hand towards the back of the store. Zack could see a dusty staircase back there. The storekeeper shot his mock pistol one more time at the staircase before his head collapsed. He took one last deep breath and exhaled it. The sound seemed to echo in the dusty antique shop. The man's chest didn't rise again.

Drew moved over and placed his hand under the man's neck, checking for a pulse. He shook his head solemnly before standing back up. No one said anything for a while. They seemed to be having a moment of silence for this man they barely knew. After a moment, Josh began to make his way towards the staircase.

"Are you sure you want to go up there?" Steve asked. "I think he was trying to say there's more of them up them."

"That could have been what he was saying, or it may not have been," Josh retorted. "He wasn't exactly clear on the meaning."

"So forget about it," Drew spoke up. "There wouldn't be anything important up there anyway. And, if there were zombies, we could just leave them be."

Josh didn't seem to hear this. He walked up the staircase without looking back, magnum raised. He disappeared from sight, but his footfalls still drifted down to Zack's ears. He listened carefully until he heard them stop.

"You guys have to see this!" Josh's excited voice called from up above. "Antiques weren't the only things that man was selling!"

The group rushed upstairs with Zack leading the way. There was a door at the top of the stairs. It was already open, exposing a dark hallway. It looked like this was where the owner spent his time when he wasn't working downstairs. Lived upstairs, worked downstairs, so he never had to leave the building unless he wanted to.

There were three doors in the hallway. Two of them were on the right while the other was on the left. The door on the left was the only one open, so Zack walked into it. Josh was standing with his back to him, looking intently at a bookcase. Except, Zack noticed it wasn't a bookcase. It was actually a large display case full of guns and weapons.

There were all sorts of weapons— old Japanese swords, throwing stars, elaborate daggers, and antique pistols. Zack doubted any of those would be useful at all. Most would probably break as soon as they were used, and the pistols would probably blow up in their faces.

However, Zack noticed it wasn't those weapons his brother was looking at. He was looking towards the bottom of the display. Zack stepped to the side so he could see what was keeping his brother's attention.

"Whew," he said, letting out a long whistle. "Now, that's what I'm talking about!"

There were guns there, lots of them. There had to be almost a dozen handguns, all in a variety of flavors. There were two shotguns, both clean and polished. There were two large magnums. Zack recognized one as a Smith and Wesson .44 Magnum. The very same gun Clint Eastwood had declared "the most powerful handgun in the world." There was also an empty rack where the handgun Josh held in his hands must have belonged. In the very center of the display was a large machine gun that looked like it had seen its use in World War II.

"Is that thing even legal?" Drew asked.

"Wouldn't count on it," Josh said. "But right now, I don't think that really matters, does it?"

"Is there any ammo for these guns?" Terry asked, eyeing on of the shotguns.

"Yeah," Josh said, moving to the side. On the very right hand side of the display was a row of cabinets. He opened one to reveal boxes of ammunition. "I looked while you guys were coming up here. There's ammo for just about every gun here, except the automatic. He must not have been able to find any."

Terry nodded, moving up to the glass. He gave it a few taps. "This isn't ordinary glass. I think it's shatter proof. We're going to need the keys."

"No problem," Zack said, already moving for the door. "I bet the owner has them on him. After all, he had to use them to grab that magnum, right?" He gave a quick wave before heading down the stairs.

xXxXx

The downstairs was a lot creepier than he remembered. Before, he had the comfort of his friends, but now he was all alone. Every shadow of the store seemed to be concealing a demon. His eyes drifted over to the huddled form in the corner, the zombie that the storekeeper had shot earlier. Zack had a terrible thought that they man would get back up and try to rip out his throat.

_Don't be stupid!_ he chastised himself. _He was shot twice. No one, not even a zombie, could get up after that. He's dead and he's going to stay dead. Stop being such a baby and get the keys._

He nodded, feeling a little better. Ahead of him, Zack could see the counter and the owner's shadow. His head was still down and his eyes were still closed. _Of course!_ he thought. _What did you expect? Did you expect him to jump up and start dancing?_ Zack thought of the Asian man wearing a top hat and cane and tap-dancing. He smiled at the thought.

Zack moved over to the body and stood over it, debating where he should begin his search. His common sense was telling him that the keys would be in his front pocket, but that was the last thing he wanted to reach in. The man may have been dead, but that didn't make it all right for him to play pocket pool with the guy to get the keys.

Zack sighed deeply. He'd have to get over it. Right now, the guns were more important than his self-dignity. "Here we go," he said, bending over.

First, he tried the left pocket. Zack definitely didn't want to reach into the right unless the left was empty. The blood from the man's side wound had already run down to the pants. He was sure that if he put his hand near it, it would come back wet with blood. Zack shuddered at the thought and stuck his hand into the left. As he dug around in it, he kept his head locked onto the man's head, watching him. He still couldn't shake off the feeling that the man was only pretending to be dead. Every time he moved his eyes to something else, he would think of the storeowner's eyes snapping open. A chilling thought indeed.

Luckily for him, the keys were in the left pocket.. They jingled slightly as he pulled them free from the pocket. As he moved his hand, he felt more steel brush against his hand. He stuck his hand back in there and come out with two speed loaders for the magnum that Josh now carried.

Zack stood back up. He turned back to the staircase, ready to leave the disturbing downstairs for the company of his friends. He took a few steps, keeping his eye on the zombie that the storekeeper had shot before their arrival. It didn't move, but someone else did. Behind him, the storekeeper's eyes fluttered open. It almost looked like he had awaken from a deep, peaceful slumber, but his eyes spoke the truth. They were white and dead, much like the rest of him. He moaned slightly as he rose, breathing again, living again.

Zack heard the moan and it froze him where he stood.

_No way, _his mind reasoned. _You're imagining things. You're just getting a little spooked out and your mind is playing tricks on you._ He turned around, fearful of what he knew was there. He wasn't surprised to see the storekeeper walking towards him with outstretched arms, but he gasped with horror all the same.

_How is he alive? Why did he turn into one of them?_

These two questions played over and over in Zack's mind, but at his current level of fear, he couldn't answer them. His mind just stumbled over itself, freezing him in his place.

The storekeeper was close enough that Zack could smell him. Already he smelt like death, rotting death. The smell was bad enough to actually gag him, freeing him from his trance.

The zombified storekeeper reached for Zack, but he reacted quickly. He stepped to the side. The zombie's lunge missed completely, and Zack used this moment for his counter attack. He kicked out with his feet and connected with the back of the zombie's legs. The blow sent the creature to the ground, kneeling. Then Zack followed his original attack up with another kick to the back of the zombie's skull. It fell to the ground with a wet _splat!_ While it lay on the ground, Zack jumped into the air, stomping down on its head with both feet. Its head was crushed almost instantly. To Zack, it felt like he had just stomped on a watermelon.

He looked down at his feet and saw they were covered with blood and brain matter. He also saw the concaved head of the storekeeper. _He's not getting up again,_ he thought morbidly. His stomach gave a large lurch at the sight of the pulverized skull. He tried to fight it off but couldn't. He managed to move off to the side, away from the stairs, before the lamb chops he had feasted on earlier came back again.

After one last wrench he wiped his mouth off with his jacket sleeve. After he was satisfied that he wouldn't do it again, he moved back to the storekeeper's dead, nearly headless body. The thought of how he was _nearly _headless brought up another lurch in his stomach. This one he managed to hold down though, just barely.

_Just think of him as a mannequin_, he thought. _Just imagine he's nothing more than a Hollywood special effect. Even if it is incredibly detailed._

He stood leaning over the kill, contemplating how this had happened at all.

_He was dead. No doubt about that. Drew checked his pulse and everything, so how did he get back up?_

The answer was simple enough.

_He turned into one of them, _he thought. _He was bitten, so he turned into a zombie. It's like a strange kind of virus that brings people back from the dead, only makes them a zombie instead._

"I'd rather stay dead," Zack said quietly to himself.

The thought of turning into a zombie instantly brought another image to the singer's mind: Terry.

_Terry was scratched by one of them,_ he thought with dawning horror. As the words came into his head, it felt like someone punched him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. _That means he'll turn into one._ The thought shook Zack's core. Suddenly, he felt very faint and he was sure he would throw up again. He looked back up at the stairs where his friends eagerly awaited his return. No doubt they were growing worried about him and someone would be sent down soon. Zack looked back at the storekeeper.

_They can't know,_ he thought with determination. _Later, there will be a time to worry, but not now. Besides, you could be worrying about nothing at all. This man was bit, but Terry was scratched. Maybe you have to be bit to actually turn into one. Maybe being scratched does nothing at all._

Maybe, just maybe…


	7. A Little Payback

**Chapter Seven— A Little Payback**

"He's been gone for awhile, don't ya think?" Josh asked with notable concern. "It shouldn't have taken him that long to get keys. Right?"

"Relax," Drew said, moving next to him and placing a comforting hand on the drummer's shoulders. "Maybe they weren't on the owner, so he had to take a look around for them."

"Yeah, you're right. I'm sure he's fine," Josh said, but he never took his eyes off the door. He didn't stop biting his bottom lip either. "Then again, it wouldn't hurt to check on him," he said, moving towards the door.

_I never should have let him go down there by himself!_ Josh reprimanded himself. _He didn't even have a fucking gun. What if one of the zombies snuck in through the back? Or if one of them was already here, but was hiding the whole time, just waiting for someone to go off by themselves? Why are you so stupid!_

As it turned out, he didn't need to have worried. Before he could even reach the staircase, Zack was already at the top. Instant relief spread into Josh. He had anurge to run over and hug his brother, but something stopped him. It was the look on Zack's face.

"What's the matter?" Josh asked. He could tell just by looking at his brother that something was wrong. He was noticeably paler and his face was contorted into a look of savage pain like someone had just stabbed him in the gut. He barely even seemed to notice Josh. His eyes seemed to be far away as if his mind was on something else.

"Nothing," Zack said, shaking himself out of his trance. The look of hurt on his face was instantly replaced by a smile. Josh thought the smile looked forced, something he would never expect from his normal joyful, lighthearted brother. Zack reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He jingled them lightly in the air as he spoke. "Found them." In his other hand he held a couple of speed loaders for a .357 magnum. "And these. Thought you might want them," he said as he handed them over with the keys.

"Thanks a lot man," Josh said. They stood there for a second, watching each other, eye's never leaving each other. He was trying to read them, trying to find out what it was his brother was hiding. All of his life, Josh could tell when his brother was hiding something. There were signs— shifty eyes and fidgeting were just a couple of them— but if they were there, he couldn't see them.

Finally, he gave up and just gave his brother a hug instead. "What took you so long down there? We were just starting to think of sending Terry down there to kick your ass for taking so long."

Zack laughed along with his brother, but Josh noticed another change in Zack's manner. As soon as he had mentioned Terry, Zack's eyes had shifted to the right, avoiding Josh's. Something was up, and Josh was determined to get some answers. Even if he couldn't get some now, he would get them later.

"The store owner had them in his pocket. I had to dig down in there for them, and it wasn't something I was just willing to do right away." He paused. "I just couldn't get the fact that he was dead out of my head."

"Understandable," Josh nodded. "For that, why don't you get first pick out of the gun cabinet?"

Zack smiled again, and once again Josh thought it looked force. "That shotgun's mine then."

xXxXx

In the end, they managed to deal out nearly every weapon, taking turns for each pick.

The two shotguns went to Zack and Terry. Drew grabbed the large .44 magnum, and Steve got the other. Everyone got a handgun but Michael, and that was the beginning of a rather large debate.

"There's no way I'm gonna let you give my son that gun," Steve objected with crossed arms. "He's not old enough to handle one."

"I'm thirteen, dad," Michael protested. "I can handle one of those."

"Absolutely not! It's out of the question."

"To be honest," Drew whispered into Josh's ears. "I'd rather give the gun to the kid than to his father." Both of them were sitting on the ground, watching the argument go one with little interruption.

Josh chuckled quietly, nodding his agreement. So far, Steve had done nothing but complain, while Michael had actually cooperated quite nicely. Then there was always the fire escape. Steve hadn't wanted to jump but his son had, and he even managed to stick the landing, unlike his father. As far as Josh was concerned, Michael acting more like a man than his father.

"I've shot them before!" Michael said, raising his voice.

This proclamation surprised Steve. "What? When? I would never allow you to do such a thing!"

"Uncle Tony took me out to the shooting range during summer break when I was staying with mom."

Steve sighed deeply and closed his hands into fists. He looked like he was brimming with anger. "Looks like I'm gonna have to have a talk with your mother about this, and your uncle. I can't believe she'd let you do such a thing! It's so dangerous!"

"You know how to use one of these?" Terry interrupted, holding out one of the handguns to Michael.

"Sure," he answered. "That's the slide, that's the safety, there's the trigger, and that's how you eject the clip." As said this he pointed out each as easily as someone could point out the colors of the sky or the grass.

"Here you go," Terry said as he gave the kid the gun. "Just be careful with it. I don't want to listen to you father's complaints if you shoot yourself in the foot."

"No problem," the kid said as he grabbed the gun. He switched on the safety and tucked it into his waistband.

"Now wait a Goddamned minute here," Steve said. "I said I don't want him to have a gun."

"Debate's over," Josh said, standing up. "I doubt you know any of the things he does about guns, so he gets one. Either way, we need as much help as we can get. The streets are crawling with those things." He turned his attention away from Steve and moved it to Michael. "Only shoot it if one of them gets to close to you. Let us handle most of them."

"Fine," the kid said, nodding.

"I can't believe this," Steve said breathlessly. He crossed his arms sternly and shot Josh a disapproving glance. The drummer returned it with a stern look of his own, and for the second time of the night, Steve backed down.

"How much ammo we got?" Drew asked as he stood up.

Terry moved to the gun cabinet and began digging through the ammo shelves. "Hard to say right now. The owner wasn't very neat. Everything is just thrown in here randomly."

"Dig all of it out then, and we'll divide it up equally," Josh said.

In the end, they managed to partition the bullets evenly. Each person got three extra clips for their handgun. Terry and Zack divided the shotgun slugs between them and managed to get an extra thirty slugs each. There was even less ammo for the magnums. Josh managed to scrounge up enough bullets to refill his empty chambers, but the two speed loaders were the only extras he got. Drew and Steve were even less lucky. They only managed to find an excess of twelve bullets each, but no speed loaders.

"Ready to leave then?" Zack asked as he swung the shotgun over his back. Both of the shotguns had come equipped with straps that allowed them to be placed on the back. They didn't manage to find any holsters for the handguns though, so the waistband of everyone's pants became the next best thing.

"Hold on," Terry said, eyeing the machine gun that remained untouched. "Are you sure we shouldn't take this thing?"

"There's no use to it," Drew said. "Remember? No ammo."

"I know, I know," Terry said. "Just I can't stop thinking of how much easier this would be with automatic weapons. We'd be able to mow through them with ease!"

"It'll be fine," Zack said. "We have these shotguns now. They'll turn those undead freaks into Swiss cheese!"

"Sounds good," Terry said with a smile. "After seeing so many people die tonight, I wouldn't mind a little payback."

"I hear ya," Josh said, standing up. "Well then, let's go." He took a couple steps before pain shot through his left leg. "Shit," he cursed, bending down to look at his leg.

"What? What's the matter," Zack asked with a white face. "Did one of them bite or scratch you?"

"No," Josh said. "There's a fucking splinter in my leg that's about two inches long." He grunted as he pulled it from his leg. "See," he said, holding it out before him with a bemused smile. "Wonder how that got there." The piece of wood had actually came from the door that had exploded under the pressure of the living dead pushing against it. Josh had been so full of adrenaline and fear he hadn't noticed it until now.

He thought he heard his brother give a sigh of relief, but it was hard to tell with the racket outside. The thought of the racket outside made Josh wonder.

What time would the screams stop? What time would there be no one left to scream? _Won't be long,_ he thought disheartened. _With so many of them out there, it's a wonder we're even alive._ That thought brought up another troubling question: how long did they have left?

_Stop thinking of that stuff!_ he thought. _It isn't helping._

"I'll lead the way," Terry said moving towards the stairs. Josh waited until everyone else filed out after the security guard, letting himself fall into the rear of the line.

They moved quickly through the store. They moved down the stairs, moving past the large puddle of blood that had been left when Zack squashed the storeowner's head, but no one noticed it. No one even noticed that the storeowner's head was pulverized. That was because Zack had taken the pains of moving the body back to its original spot so that it hid in the shadows of the counter. No one noticed that anything was amiss.

Zack waited for someone to say something, _hoped _for someone to say something. If someone would have noticed the crushed head, he wouldn't have to keep the secret anymore. He wouldn't have to withhold the awful truth that was waiting to explode off his lips like a time bomb.

xXxXx

The cold night air nipped at Josh's legs as he moved through the alley.

_Damnit! Why didn't I wear pants?_ he cursed himself. _Or at least a sleeved shirt. That would have been better than this. _Sure, the shorts and sleeveless shirt were good for playing drums, but they were useless against the biting cold. He hadn't noticed at first because of the adrenaline pumping through him, but now that he had rested for a moment, that energy was gone, and with it, the warmth. He decided the second he had a chance to change clothes he wouldn't hesitate.

He looked over to his right and saw his brother. He still wore that fake combat jacket and Josh wished he could have one like that. It was no doubt keeping his brother warm. He remarked silently at how much the fake combat jacket was starting to look real. With the shotgun slung over his shoulders, the handgun in his waistband, and the bulge of ammo in his pocket, Zack was really starting to look like a real soldier.

Josh was still in the back of the group, watching their rear so that nothing could sneak up on them. The group moved silently through the alley. No one spoke; they listened. The city was alive tonight (or maybe the more appropriate term us dead). All around them, noises filled the air, but they were the worst sounds he had ever heard in his life. There were screams (oh yes, plenty of screams), gunshots (to Josh's discontent, there was less of those), there were explosions, and a couple of times he swore he had heard a piercing animalistic screech. They were the sounds of chaos. They were the music of Armageddon.

Terry stopped. They were now at the entrance of the alley. He peered around the corner. He looked both ways before turning back to them. "It looks clear," he said.

"Then let's go before more decide to show up," Drew said, moving towards the front.

"Not so fast," Terry said, holding out his arm, blocking the alley's exit. "We don't know how smart these things are. They might have just went inside the buildings, waiting for someone to waltz down the streets." He paused, biting his bottom lip. "We could be walking into a trap."

"I don't think so," Josh said moving up to join the conversation. "I saw my fair share of them back at the concert, remember?" He didn't realize it, but he was speaking in hushed whispers, keeping the discussion between the three of them. "It took them minutes to figure out how to use the stairs, even longer for the climbing the stage. They may be dangerous, but they're not geniuses. As to where they are, I'm damn near positive that in a city like this, they're not going to have to wait around for someone to walk by."

"That's not a very pleasant way to put it," Drew whispered back, looking nervously towards the streets. He sighed before looking back at the drummer and security guard. "Then again, it's the truth. In case you haven't noticed, the screaming in this block has pretty much dropped to nothing."

Josh nodded grimly. It was true. Since leaving the antique store, they had heard only the occasional scream, and even less gunshots. That meant two things: the zombie invasion had been successfully repelled, or it had gone off without a hitch. Josh was willing to bet on the second.

"Then I'll go by myself," the drummer volunteered. "You know? Scout out the location? I'll see if anymore of the rotting freaks are hiding in the stores."

"I'm not so sure," Drew said. "Pretty risky. What if Terry's right and they're only waiting for someone to get close?"

Josh could offer no answer. He only sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

"Then that's settled. We go together, or not at all."

"Wait a second," Terry said, butting into the debate. "I think Josh is right. I mean, look over there at the kid and his father. Both of them haven't got a faintest clue how to handle themselves right now."

"Neither do we," Drew huffed, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, you're right, but I'd sooner trust you guys than that Steve guy over there," Terry continued. "My point is, we have to think about the safety of the others. If someone has to play scout than so be it. Whatever gets us through this hell."

Drew bit his lip, looking anxiously to the empty streets and back to the Miller family. Finally, he gave up. "Fine, fine, fine, whatever. If big bad Josh wants to play the hero, let him. I just want to remind you that the hero dies. It's what they show in those movies anyways."

Josh only offered a weak smile. "We'll see about that."

"One condition," Drew said. "Someone has to go with you. You know, buddy system."

"Fine," Josh replied. "Zack can come with me. You two just stay here with them."

Terry and Drew both nodded in unison.

"Zack," Josh called over, no longer whispering. "Get your ass over here."

His brother was happy to oblige. "What's up?" he asked casually, shotgun clenched in his hands.

"We're going to scout out that street, see what's going on. You dig?"

"Like a mother-fucking mole," Zack replied with a slight grin.

Josh laughed lightly and punched his brother in the arm playfully. "You're an idiot," he said. They walked together out onto the main road.

"Man," Zack sighed, looking around at the vacant road. "I thought it was bad when the place was crawling with them. This is different…it's unnatural."

"Got that right," responded absently, looking back and forth, watching for any sign of movement in the store windows. To his shock, there was none. Some windows were busted in, others were lit up, and even more were dark, but they all had one thing in common: they remained empty. Josh was starting to get unnerved from the lack of life.

Cars lined the streets, but all remained empty. There were a couple with doors wide open, and Josh could see the blood spilled onto the dashboard all to easily. In a couple of vehicles he could see the drivers figure laying back in their seats. The one time he had dared to move up next to one and peer into the window, a bloody, marred face pressed itself up against the glance.

"Jesus!" Josh exclaimed, clutching his heart and falling down on the ground in heap. His legs refused to work and he had to skitter around before finally finding his center and standing back up. The bloody face brought up a bloody hand and pounded again on the glass, smearing blood and spittle on the glass. Josh raised his handgun and aimed at the center between the eyes of the deranged human. Before he could pull the trigger, he stopped.

_What am I doing? _he thought. _It's easier to kill someone when trying to defend yourself, but he's defenseless with nothing but a pane of glass to protect himself._ He lowered the weapon slowly. He looked long and hard at the gory, blood drenched man. His pistol raised again. _But he's not a person anymore. He's a deranged beast. Humanity has deserted him, leaving this walking corpse behind. _His finger tense around the trigger. _Besides, you can't kill something that's already dead. There's no life to take. It's just returning things to the way they should be. Restoring order._ His thoughts grappled with each other, pulling him from one way to the next. Finally he gritted his teeth and pulled the gun away.

"Just be a waste of ammo anyway," he said out loud to himself, exasperated. In truth, Josh couldn't even convince himself of what he was saying. It was much harder to pull the trigger than he actually thought. It was a lot harder to end something's life, especially when it looked like a human. "It can't do anything in there that would harm me." He turned away, leaving the bloody mess of a man pounding on the glass. The blood that had been smeared on the window had almost completely encompassed it now.

"See anything?" Josh asked in hushed tones to his brother. The streets had affected him more than he had originally thought. It was already disturbing enough that there were no zombies, but there was also a tension in the air. It felt like something was about to happen. It felt like there was some imaginary animal preparing to pounce on him, or maybe it was more like there was a boulder over his head held up only by a thin rope. Any moment and the tension would increase so much that the rope would snap, crushing Josh under its tremendous weight. At the thought, he suddenly felt a need to go back to the group and tell them it wasn't safe.

"Nothing," Zack said, jogging back to his brother. "It looks like they decided to pack their bags and head out."

"Finally, some good news," Josh said. He glanced around the deserted street one last time. He half expected a tumble weed to come rolling by like they did in those Western movies. "Let's head back and tell the others. I'm sure they're a little curious right now."

Zack nodded before falling behind his brother. They walked back silently, watching the streets for any sign of movement. Josh once again had the strange feeling of a heavy weight being suspended overhead, and he had to fight the strange impulse to look up.

"What's the deal?" Drew asked as soon as he saw his friends enter the alley.

"Not much out there," Josh said. "Looks like they all decided to leave the street. They could be inside the buildings, but if they are, they aren't setting traps."

"Yeah," Zack nodded in agreement. "I walked by nearly every friggin store there, and nothing happened. Not a soul, alive or dead."

"Well…"Josh began, but stopped. Should he tell them about the man in the car? The man he hadn't been able to shoot? He decided there was no harm in it. "I did see a zombie in one of the cars, but it was too dumb to figure out how to open it. It's like I said before, we don't have to worry about traps with these guys. I doubt they could tie a shoelace."

"Fine," Terry said, grabbing the shotgun from his back. "Let's go."

xXxXx

The group was silent, tense, apprehensive. They walked down the street, looking side to side. Drew walked slowly, keeping his handgun in a death grip. He wouldn't be parting with it anytime soon. As far as he was concerned, it was his new best friend.

_Just like how Adam used to be your best friend, _Drew's mind taunted, tugging on his heart. The memory came flashing back. He remembered the pale look of Adam's dying face; he remembered his dying words: "I couldn't even finish my fucking solo." It was hard for Drew to forget the guitarist. Zack and Josh had each other. They were true brothers, but Drew had always left his behind when he went on tour. He had no family that came with him. Adam was like his brother in that case, and it hurt when you lost a brother. It hurt a lot.

"I don't like how quiet it is," Michael piped up. His father, who stood behind him, shushed him harshly. "Sorry," the boy said with shame in his voice.

"Don't worry about it," Drew said, smiling. "There's no one here to hear you. Besides, I much prefer the peace and quiet than a mob of the living dead."

"I guess you're right," the kid said, still talking in hushed tones as to not upset his father.

"I wouldn't speak so soon," Terry said as he stopped. He gestured slowly with a nod of his head to the intersection twenty feet ahead of the group. An indistinguishable figure shambled slowly around the corner and onto the street that Drew was now standing on. He watched with fascination as the person moved slowly, stumbling as they went. The figure passed under a street light, showing Drew all the information he needed. The man was definitely dead. It was a hard for him to imagine anyone being alive when their guts were hanging as loosely out of their stomachs as this man's were. The guts were not the detail that put Drew's heart into the ice grip it was in; it was the fact that the man was walking right towards the group.

"Time for some payback," Josh said determinedly, stepping forward with his gun drawn. He held the gun out in in front of him, taking aim with a steady hand. Drew watched with fascination.

_As Josh ever shot a real gun before?_ he questioned with honest curiosity. As it turned out, he hadn't.

_BAMM!_

The gunshot rung out clearly and powerfully. Drew had been close to guns being fired before— he was an avid hunter and had been to the shooting range a couple of time— but the shot even took him by surprise. His ears rung from the shot.

The shot was off to the right. A car window exploded from the impact the stray bullet had on its glass surface, but the zombie remained untouched. If the man with his guts displayed to the world hadn't noticed the group before, he certainly did now. There was a quiet moan that paled in comparison to the massive gunshot Josh had just made, and then the man began to drag his dead feet towards them. Josh readjusted his aim, and fired another shot. This one managed to find flesh. It hit the zombie high on the collar bone. Its body gave a quick jolt to the wound, but kept moving. Josh readjusted his aim once more and fired two quick shots in succession. One sailed high, but the other found its mark on the eyeball of the zombie. It didn't moan as it fell to the ground, lifeless once again.

Drew turned to his friend and saw the grim resolve set on his face. "It had to be done," Josh said quietly. "Sooner or later." Drew understood that his friend hadn't fired because the zombie posed an immediate threat. They could have found a way around it, or Terry could have shot it (he had already killed more than Drew could count on his hands). Josh had done it to prove to himself that he could act when he needed, that he could kill when the situation called for it. Drew admired his friend's resolve.

"Way to go!" Steve yelled out sarcastically. "All you did was attract the attention of more!"

Drew looked over to the once empty store windows. Steve was right. The darkened store doorways were suddenly alive with the undead. The fought with each other as they tried to fit through the doorways all at once. The bassist looked with amazement at how many of them there were. They were all different. There were people ranging from toddlers (it hurt Drew's heart the most to see such little ones get caught up in a mess like this) to the elderly. As far as he could see, there was an even ratio of the sexes, and they came in all sorts of shapes and sizes— tall, short, fat, skinny, muscular, and bald. But there was one thing they shared in common: the empty look that filled their eyes.

"Shit," Zack cursed, pointing his shotgun to one of the doorways. There was a massive _BOOM! _as he emptied the shotgun's barrel into the massive pile of moving, undead flesh. The zombies in the front were blown back from the blast, creating a domino effect as they pushed the others back. "Goddamn!" Zack yelled loudly. "This thing has got some balls to it!"

Steve decided it would be a good time to try out his new magnum. He pointed it awkwardly towards a large man who came out of an alley. He tried to mimic the way both Terry and Josh had aimed, but it proved to no avail. The magnum fired with an ear-splitting _BANG!_ but the zombie still stood tall. That was because as the gun went off, it flew out of Steve's hands nearly as fast as the bullet itself had traveled, sending the bullet up and over the zombie head by a good ten feet. "Damn!" He cursed loudly, holding his aching hands. He forgot about the gun, letting it lie wherever it had landed. He even forgot about the zombie.

His memory was jogged when he heard the tell-tale moan coming from behind him. He looked over his shoulder with pure terror, seeing the man with the torn throat reaching for him with grubby hands. Steve did the only thing he could think of; he crouched protectively.

_BAMM!_

His back was drenched by something hot and sticky, and he heard a wet _splat!_ as something collided with the ground. He peeked cautiously around to see the man with the torn throat lying on the ground, a large bullet hole in the head accompanying the gash in the neck.

"Come on!" Terry yelled, motioning over to Steve. "There's too many of them! We have to leave!"

Steve nodded with understanding, moving quickly. His pants were wet, but it wasn't blood. As far as Steve was concerned, no one needed to know about his "accident" from when he had been attacked. And it wasn't the gun flying from his hands he was talking about.

Drew heard Terry call for the retreat. He took that moment to fire his magnum one last time at a thin middle-aged woman. Unlike Steve, he had little trouble controlling the powerful handgun. The gun left a gaping hole in her chest, sending her to the ground. Drew didn't stay to see if she would rise (he thought she would, but sometimes it was better not to know). He called to Josh as he ran after Terry, Steve, and Michael. "Time to go!"

Josh nodded, turning to follow the group. A bald man with a bloody face took a swipe at Josh, but the drummer fired a round into the man's face before he could take any real damage. Zack heard Drew as well, and followed without looking back.

Zombies continued to pour from nearly everywhere at once. Drew was reminded of a breaking dam. It would start with a tiny trickle of water, but then more and more streams would come, until eventually the dam broke. He didn't want to be on the street when that happened.

The group sprinted down the street, shooting only the zombies that got in the way. Behind them, forming like a Thanksgiving parade, was the pack of zombies.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry about the slow update. I've been pretty busy in the past couple of weeks (redoing my basement for anyone who cares). That coupled with a bad case of writer's block managed to make this the slowest update I've had. Sorry bout that. I want to thank those who have been reviewing. That means you AnimaSola, Vrante, Tamarani, Sanchez, and EZB. Special thanks to Sanchez for offering his help on the subject of weaponry. With all honesty, its not something I'm particularly enlightened on, so I'll take all the help I can get. Until next time._

_One more little thing. You were right, Anima, the man character is supposed to be me, but that doesn't mean its going to be another bland self-insertion fic. He's only loosely based on me, as are the other character based on people I know (their last names have been changed to protect their privacy). Don't worry though, the true intent of this fic isn't about what I would do in an outbreak. I have some interesting things planned for my character, some of them I hope to be completely unsuspected (though AnimaSola has come a little bit close to a guess). _

_I know that was a particularly long Author's note, but I felt some things had to be said. Anyway my little "speech" is over with. See you around next chapter._


	8. Trapped in Shadows

**Chapter Eight— Trapped in Shadows**

"This way!" Josh called, turning at the intersection. They had managed to leave behind the massive group that had seemed to materialize out of thin air well behind, but they hadn't managed to stay in the clear completely. There was still plenty of undead left to go around. They stood idly on the streets, staring at nothing; they feasted on the surplus of flesh that littered the streets. One of the idlers noticed Josh and turned towards the drummer. He waited until he was in an easy shooting distance and fired one shot. That was all it took to send the zombie back to the ground.

_We have to make it!_ Josh thought determinedly. _We have to!_

There was a destination engraved in his mind, and he intended to bring everyone with him, alive that is. As far as Josh was concerned, there was only one place in Raccoon City that mattered, the Lux Cher Hotel. It stood to reason that the hotel would provide a safe haven of sorts. The zombies couldn't handle stairs, making it easy to out maneuver them, and there were fire escapes should anything go awry and they have to leave. Then there was the most important thing in Josh's mind: there was food and beds. If they could get out of the streets for the night, they could decide what to do in the day. The light would be a welcome sight for all of them.

xXxXx

Terry huffed and puffed his way after Josh. The drummer was moving with a purpose, but Terry was falling behind. It was because of his damned chest. The scratch that woman had left back at the theatre had turned into something nasty.

The wounds themselves were flaring red with infection, and a strange pus-like-goo leaked out. Not to mention there was this insatiable itch that would never leave. It had started from the scratches but it had managed to make its way up towards his shoulders. There were other strange symptoms too— light nausea, headaches, and shortness of breath. They hadn't even run a block, yet Terry's lungs were burning as if heated by searing coals.

Terry's mind kept turning to all the horror movies he had watched. Wasn't one of the staples that when bitten by a werewolf or vampire you would in turn become one of them? The same went for zombies. The evil was passed on from victim to victim, turning all who touched its vile hand into the living dead. Terry wasn't sure of this, but it was a strong hypothesis of his. After all, he had already seen it tonight.

He had seen the truth back at the theatre, but he hadn't realized what had occurred until now. There had been the man sitting at the bar next to Terry. He had been alive, but somehow he had died. When that had happened he had only risen back up again, craving the taste of human flesh. From the looks of it, the man had died from some sort of disease.

_The same disease that is now flowing through me, _Terry surmised.

However, at this point, it was impossible for him to know. All he was doing was making guesses, random shots into the dark. But what if he was right? What would he do if he turned into a zombie and killed everyone with him?

_You could kill yourself,_ a tiny voice whispered into his mind. It was a cold, chilling thought, but perhaps there was truth in that statement. He would at least die as a man; he would die with honor. He also had the tools to accomplish this feat. A bullet to the brain would be enough to end his life, but take the sickness with it.

_No!_ he thought with determination. _I can't give up. I've never quit on anything before, and I'm not going to start now. There are people depending on me for survival. _He looked over at what remained of the band Last Man Standing. They were down one member now, and Terry couldn't help but feel responsible for it. If he had been there in the first place, maybe all of the band could be surviving. He didn't know that for sure, but what he did know was that if he was selfish and took his own life now, he wouldn't be there to protect the people that still lived.

Besides, why was he getting all worked up about it right now? Just because the movies showed people turning into zombies once bitten or scratched doesn't mean he would turn into one. Those were just movies.

xXxXx

"Hold on!" Terry called, taking deep, winded breaths. "I need a break."

_We can't! _Josh's mind screamed at him. _They're chasing us! We can't stop! They'll tear us apart!_

Josh took a nervous glance back at the alley they had just run through and then towards the empty street ahead. "Alright, we can stop, but we have to find a safe place to stay in. I don't like the idea of resting on the streets."

"Heard yah," Drew said from behind. He wasn't out of wind yet, but drops of sweat were clearly visible under the streetlights.

The group moved to the closest building they could find, a local gas station.

Josh and Zack were the first to go in the building. They both approached the glass doors carefully. They peered inside, but saw nothing. Josh gave a nod to his brother before opening the door.

Inside the group spread out, checking the aisles for any sign of the undead. Zack jumped over the counter, making sure there was no one behind it.

They found nothing.

"That leaves only one place unchecked," Zack said.

Josh nodded solemnly. "I'll take a look. You guys just stay here and rest."

Zack bit his lip apprehensively. "I think we should check it out together. It'll be safer."

Josh smiled, showing it was all right. "Don't worry. Your big brother can take care of himself."

"He's right," Drew said, moving over to where the brothers stood. "We've been over this before. We use the buddy system. I'll go with you."

"Fine."

Josh watched his brother go for a second before turning his attention back to the door. With a deep sigh, he pushed the door open and walked into the back room.

The room was pitch black. Josh felt the wall next to him, looking for a light switch. Eventually, he found one and flicked it. Nothing happened. He flipped it up and down several times, but the bulb overhead remained dark.

"Damn it…" Josh muttered under his breath.

"Now what?" Drew asked from beside him

They weren't left in complete dark though. The light from the open doorway let him see that they were in a hallway. There were three doors.

"We keep going," Josh said as he moved to the only one on the left. Cautiously he opened the door. Drew watched him go then moved for the first one on the right.

The room was as black as the hall. Josh felt for a switch and found it, but this time the light bulb in the center flickered on. He gave a sigh of relief when he saw that there was nothing here but an empty office. Papers and empty food containers cluttered the room, but there was nothing dangerous in here (unless count what looked like three days old Chinese left on the desk).

He closed the door behind him and moved back to the hall. He saw Drew hastily close one of the doors, plugging his nose and gagging loudly. "Man! That's disgusting!"

"What?" Josh asked as he moved towards the door. He reached for the doorknob with his hand, but Drew knocked it away.

"Don't!" he demanded, still gagging. "It's just a bathroom. A fucking disgusting one at that. Damn!" He paused. "Trust me, not even the dead could stand to be in that room. It's that bad."

Josh smiled at his friend's antics. "No way it's that bad."

"Don't believe me? Check for yourself. Someone needs to learn to flush after themselves."

Josh just chuckled. "I trust you."

The bathroom had served as a small distraction against Josh's original purpose, exploring the back rooms and making sure they were safe. He looked over at the one remaining door.

"Go ahead and go back to the group," Josh said. "I'll check out this last room and be back in a sec."

Drew didn't even argue this time. He gave Josh a small, comical salute and went off.

Josh gripped the doorknob in his left hand, raising his handgun with his right. He cracked the door open carefully, peering into the room. It was pointless. The room was even darker than the hall.

_Just turn around, _Josh thought. _There's nothing in there. There wasn't anything in the last two rooms, so why would there be anything in this one? Just follow Drew back to the group. Where it's safe._

Josh took a deep breath. "Can't do that," he whispered to himself. With that said, he pushed the door open and walked in. He felt around for a light switch, but when he found it, it didn't turn on. _Big surprise,_ he scoffed.

The thought of walking blindly in the dark with God-only-knew-what lurking in the shadows wasn't a pleasant one. He thought briefly of turning back around, but pushed the thought from his mind. He had to do this.

"What I wouldn't give for a flashlight," Josh said aloud. He hadn't meant to talk aloud, but it helped. The room was far too dark and silent for his liking. The place was starting to get under his skin, and talking out loud was just one small thing he could do to stop himself from freaking out.

He didn't have a flashlight, but he did have something else. He reached into his pocket and produced his cell-phone. With a quick flick of the wrist the phone was open, sending out dim blue-light.

That was when Josh heard that God-forsaken noise, another soulless moan. Josh turned the cell-phone to the direction of the noise, but a shelf stacked with various boxes and items met him. At least he knew where he was now: the storage room.

Josh scanned the cell-phone left to right, hoping to catch the zombie in its light. He saw nothing. With his gun held out in front of him and the cell-phone clutched in his shaking hands, he walked forward.

_Should I really be doing this? _he questioned. _I'm going to go find a zombie with a flashlight. That doesn't sound like the best of ideas._

_Then again,_ he argued with himself. _Maybe it's not a zombie at all. It could be a person. The owner of the antique store moaned like that and we thought he was a zombie. _He had a strong mental image of someone lying against a wall with a bleeding neck. Someone who had heard him open the door and was trying to call for help. He couldn't leave them behind.

Josh walked on.

The tiny amount of blue light was barely strong enough to show him five feet in front of him, and the width of his vision was even worse. It was almost like having tunnel vision. There was another bone-chilling moan and he turned to the sound again, but saw nothing. The darkness was playing tricks with him. The sound seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, but he knew that was impossible. Wasn't it?

_Maybe I should just leave,_ he thought, letting cowardice grab a hold of him. _You can't see it anyway. This is crazy!_

_Get over it,_ Josh thought determinedly. _You have to do this. You don't know for a hundred percent if that moan is coming from a zombie. If that were you, you'd want someone to help you. Wouldn't you?_

The answer was of course, yes. More determined than ever, Josh moved on.

The light shone a blank wall, leaving him with the sole option of turning left. Josh took it, following the rows of shelves. He felt like Theseus in the Labyrinth, except he had a cell-phone to guide him instead of a ball of thread, and there wasn't a Minotaur waiting at the end but instead a zombie.

Sweat rolled down the side of his face as he went farther down the lines of shelves. With each step the hand holding the gun grew a little shakier. _If this keeps up, _he thought. _I might not even be able to shoot it. My hands will be shaking to bad._

He didn't hear another moan, but he heard something just as bad, maybe even worse. It was the sound of light breathing. He was getting closer now, or was he only hearing his own breath? In the darkness— lit only by one broken cell-phone— it was impossible to tell.

"Hello?" Josh finally called out. He had met to sound strong and reassuring, but his voice came out small and weak. "Anyone there?"

There was no answer.

A hot rancid smell came to his nostrils and he knew he was close. _But how close? _he questioned. He could certainly smell the creature (possibly even hear it as well) yet he still couldn't see it. That made Josh think, could the zombie sense him? How well were the undead's senses adjusted? Could they smell better? Could they hear better?

_Can they see in the dark?_

That was an unsettling question, but certainly one he had to take into account. He stopped walking, listening carefully.

He definitely heard breathing, but it was impossible to tell where it was exactly coming from. He scanned the ground for some sign and found exactly what he was looking for (even though he hoped against hope he wouldn't find it). There was blood on the floor. It was left in thick smears and drops. At some points Josh could even see footprints in the crimson fluids. He saw the left foot was wearing a sneaker of some sort, but the right was shoeless, the toes easily distinguishable.

No doubt about it now. Whoever was in here was definitely not alive. There was way too much blood for them to be living.

While Josh was studying the footprints, the unthinkable happened: his cell-phone started flickering on and off.

"Shit!" Josh hissed through his teeth. He looked at the display and saw a warning for depleted batteries. "No! No, no, no! Come on you bastard! Don't do this to me now!" He hit the back of the phone none too gently with the palm of his hands, but it was fruitless.

Josh was in the shadows with a flesh-eating zombie that may or may not see in the dark. Just perfect.

He took a step back and tripped over something hard and stiff. He went rolling to the floor, grappling with whatever had tripped him. He didn't even realize that what he wrestling with wasn't cold and dead. He certainly didn't realize it was only maybe a half-inch thick in diameter. He thought he was grappling the zombie; he definitely didn't expect it to be an ordinary broom.

When realization hit him, he breathed a sigh of relief and flung the broom angrily away.

_How could I be so stupid! How could I let my fear get the better of me!_

He felt around on the ground, looking for his gun— he had dropped it during his WWE match with the broom. His hands landed in something sticky and wet, the blood no doubt. He grunted with dissatisfaction and disgust, wiping his hands on the front of his shirt. When he thought he was clean enough, he kept looking for his lost weapon.

"Aha!" Josh said as if he had just made a great discovery, and indeed he had. His hands found the cold steel of the gun and gripped it eagerly.

That was when he heard a new noise, one far more terrifying than the breathing and the moans combined. It was the sound of shuffling footsteps. Josh eyes went wide with terror, and he hastily pushed himself back to his feet. He looked around in the blackness, trying to find the source of the noise, but saw nothing. He was lost now in a sea of shadows with no light to guide him. That fall over the broom had caused him to lose all sense of direction he once had.

Another shuffling step, the sound of someone dragging his or her feet slowly. Josh whipped around, trying to find the zombie. He kept turning from side to side. He didn't want the zombie to get the jump on him, but in this darkness it was almost guaranteed.

The smell of death came upon him again, this time accompanied by hot, fetid breath on the back of his neck. Josh had no time to ponder how the zombie had managed to get on his backside. He rolled forward, uncaring if a wall or shelf met him. He wanted to get away from the horrible creature behind him.

It may have been his imagination, but he swore he felt wind from the creature's swing at him pass over his head. If that was true, that was far too close of a call for him.

Luckily, he managed to avoid the wall, so he spun around, firing one shot at a time at the darkness he had once stood at. The gunshots echoed loudly in the enclosed space, deafening him. The shadows were light up with the flash of the muzzle, letting Josh catch sight of his assailant in brief sparks. He didn't seem much. The life of the light was far too fleeting for him to get an accurate description, but he could see that it was a bloody man. His eyes and teeth gleamed with a kind of evil and insanity. That gleam would haunt Josh for the rest of his life, he was sure of it.

The first shot was the only one he needed; it was a lucky one. The shot managed to find the man's forehead with little trouble. In the other flashes of gunfire (he fired and extra three times after the first shot, just from pure reaction) he saw the man drop to the ground, blood squirting from the wound in his face.

For the second time in just a brief two seconds, Josh was lucky again. The extra shots ricocheted off unknown objects, sending them flying in all sorts of directions. Josh heard the _zing! _of the wayward shots, and even felt one whiz by his ear.

When the bullets finally came to their resting places in the obscurity, Josh breathed a sigh of relief. He had managed to avoid a bullet there— figuratively and literally.

Cautiously, he stood back and placed a hand out, trying to find a wall or shelf. Logic told him that if he could find one, he could trace its edges back to the door he had come in from. The panic told him to forget about the logic and run around like a chicken with its head cut-off. Josh managed to defy the latter urge.

Calmly he found the wall and walked with his hand lightly brushing the surface. He didn't say a word, he didn't think, he barely even breathed. His body had gone through a kind of sensory overload and it was now in shock.

Eventually he found the doorway and its faded light, and he sprinted for it madly. When he came into the hall he leaned against a wall, centering himself. Now that he was out of the darkness there was relief, but there was also distress. His struggle against the zombie in the darkness had shaken his very core. He drew in big gulps of air and swallowed down a surge of vomit that threatened to come up.

In a few minutes he felt better and walked back to the main group. As he did so, he reached into his front pants pocket and pulled out the cell-phone. Why he had held onto it after its batteries had run dry was a mystery to him, but it was in his pocket nonetheless.

"You piece of shit," Josh cursed to the phone. "You nearly got me killed back there." Suddenly, he turned around and hurled the phone with all his might at the wall on the far end of the hall. It shattered into countless tiny pieces, and Josh felt better. Not much, but a little.

* * *

_A/N: And it is here, finally! It was shorter than I wanted, but I thought I found a good place to cut the chapter. Otherwise, it might have gotten too long. Sorry for the huge wait (it was even longer than last time), but things have been hectic over on my side. Sorry for those of you who were expecting huge amounts of action, but I promise there will be more in the future (maybe even next chapter, if you catch my drift) Not much else to report over here except thanks to my loyal reviewers, and just leave me some comments on this new chapter. See ya later._


	9. A Turn for the Worse

**Chapter Nine— A Turn for the Worse**

Outside the local gas station, a crowd began to gather.

They stood packed, shoulder to shoulder, all trying to see the same thing. On any other day it would look like a mass of people had gathered to see some strange new event. Maybe the circus had come to town, or maybe there had been a bank robbery. Both of those given situations would have certainly drawn a crowd of thirty or maybe even fifty people. However, this situation was much different. It was only six people in a gas station, munching on potato chips and candy. Also, the crowd was not your ordinary crowd. Looking close, one would see that nearly everyone in the crowd was covered from head to toe in blood. One would also see that quite a few were missing appendages. Quite a gruesome site.

And unbeknownst to the six survivors in the store, the crowd was moving closer to the store, moaning with enthusiasm and hunger. In no time they would be pounding on the windows and glass door in an effort to get closer to their prey, to their food.

xXxXx

Drew sat on the floor, cross-legged, an open bag of Doritos resting in his lap. He shoved a mouthful of them greedily into his mouth and followed it with a generous gulp of Mountain Dew. He burped loudly, proclaiming his satisfaction.

"Man, that hits the spot!"

Josh nodded next to him while he was chewing on some beef jerky. He swallowed before speaking up. "Tell me about it. I don't think jerky has ever tasted this good."

That was all that passed for conversation between the group. Other than that, everyone was silent, munching on their own choice of snack. They didn't even realize how close they were becoming. They didn't realize that they had sat in a circle, nor did they realize that they were passing around their food and beverages without being asked. To them, the bounty of food belonged to them all, and they shared it much like the Pilgrims and Indians shared during Thanksgiving. The only difference being, Drew didn't know what to be thankful for.

_Be thankful for being alive,_ he thought. _Be thankful that you haven't gotten your throat torn out by those walking cadavers. Be thankful that you still have your friends by your side and that you haven't lost your mind yet._

Drew took another deep gulp of his pop before handing it over to Zack who took a even longer drink.

_WHAM!_

Drew was startled into a standing position, but he was glad that he wasn't the only one. Everyone else had jumped up at the same time (Steve had looked like he was going to go through the roof himself). The bassist turned towards the sound to see a zombie pressing itself against the glass of the windows. It left deep crimson streaks wherever it touched. Drew was startled to see it, but he wasn't surprised. He knew the gas station was only a temporary safe haven, and that the zombies on their trail would catch up (if they hadn't given up in the first place). The gas station had served its purpose though; it had allowed them to rest for five minutes and get something to eat.

"Time to go," Terry said bluntly, sitting up (he was the only one who didn't jump at the noise, as far as Drew could tell) as he grabbed his shotgun. Drew didn't notice the wince of pain that flashed across the security guard's face as he did this. He was too busy stuffing his face with one last handful of chips too notice Terry's strange behavior.

Once finished with the handful, Drew flung the bag of chips without care towards the front door.

_Maybe that will slow them down,_ he thought humorously as he brushed his hands together in an effort to free them of crumbs. _Who knows, maybe they prefer Doritos over human flesh? _

He withdrew his own handgun and casually flicked the safety off. If he was heading back onto the streets he wouldn't have the time to fiddle with the safety before shooting any of the undead. In this newer, deadlier Raccoon City, you had to be faster than your enemies if you were going to survive. Drew knew this.

Without a word, the group moved on, entering the darkened hall Josh and he had entered previously. The drummer shut the door behind them, enveloping them in darkness.

"Don't worry," Josh said, trying to sound reassuring, but it was hard. To Drew, it sounded like he was afraid of the dark himself. "The hallway just goes straight. Follow it to a door that will lead us outside."

They walked briskly, but didn't dare run. Who knew what they could run into in the enveloping gloom? Behind them, they heard the sound of breaking glass, surefire proof that the zombies were now inside the building. The group picked up the pace. Behind them, there was pounding at the door Josh had shut, and Drew was thankful (_one more thing for the list, _Drew thought randomly) the drummer had enough sense to shut it. Pretty soon, the door would falter— every door did, no door seemed strong enough to ward off the undead— but Drew didn't care. Zack had already opened the exit, letting in the cold air.

But with it, he let in the undead.

There wasn't nearly as many as many of them as there were behind them, but there was enough to warrant concern. Drew was surprised to see them standing in the doorway. It was almost like they had expected the group to come here, expected Zack to open the door.

"Holy shit!" was all Zack could say before one of the zombies lunged for him. Luckily, Zack was quick. He brought up the butt of his shotgun, cracking it in the jaw. It's head whiplashed back and there was an audible snap of the once man's neck. He followed the attack with a blast of his shotgun that decapitated a woman with a bloody eye hanging loosely from its socket behind the other. "They're on both sides of us!" the singer yelled over the hail of gun fire as eh backed away from the open door.

More zombies began pouring in from the back exit and Josh stepped up, shooting anything that Zack didn't take care of with well-placed headshots. "We have to clear them out if we want to go on!" he yelled.

There was a loud _BANG!_ as the door behind them burst open, letting in more zombies. "Jesus!" Drew yelled, already firing his handgun at the figures. "The ones behind us finally made it past the door!"

Terry stepped next to him, as did Steve, both firing like crazy.

The group had divided in half, with their backs to each other. One line of people attempting to clear the exit while the other half was dedicated to protecting their backs. Drew could only hope that the zombies coming in from the exit where fewer than the ones on the other side. If not, they were in some deep shit.

His handgun clicked dry, but he didn't even bother slamming in a new clip. Quickly he switched it out for his magnum. The magnum cracked like lightning. A zombie that had begun to get dangerously close was whipped back from the force of the bullet, crashing into the others behind it. Some of the walking corpses tripped over the fallen bodies, haltering their progress only slightly.

Drew was starting to get worried. Despite their best efforts, the zombies were getting way too close for comfort. They were jammed tight in the hallway, shoulder to shoulder, fighting with each other to get to the fresh prey. The corpses made a wall, a wall of death that Drew and his companions could do nothing to stop.

The magnum moved left and right, shooting anything that got to close. A man wearing a tie had his head blown off, leaving the tie wrapped around the bloody stump of the man's neck. Another woman with a broken nose was the next to fall victim to Drew's magnum. A black man wearing a tattered, bloody sweatshirt (what most kids called a hoody) fell to the ground soon after with a bloody hole in his neck. He readjusted his aim to shoot at an middle-aged man wearing a wife-beater, but his new target was taken care of by Terry's shotgun.

Behind him (he was pretty sure that the person leaning on his back was Josh) someone let out a cry of triumph. "Got the last one!"

The timing couldn't have been better. Drew had been about ready to give up— he had already given up hope when the door had busted open— when Josh grabbed him and pulled him towards safely. Drew gunned down one last zombie before following his friend, leaping deftly over the small pileup of dead bodies that had been made in the doorway.

The last one through the door was Steve, and no sooner had he passed through the archway, Terry and Josh had slammed the door shut and were pressing against it with all their weight.

"Hurry!" Josh yelled through gritted teeth. "Find something to block this door."

Drew looked around, panicking, but his eyes skipped over anything that might deem itself helpful. Michael was the one to point out the large dumpster.

"Over there!"

Immediately, Drew and Zack moved over to it, threw their shoulders into it, and pushed it. Drew was close enough to get a good whiff of the trash's scent— a vile combination of vomit and booze— before pushing with all his might. The metal screeched in protest and resisted their efforts. It moved, but not nearly as fast or far as they needed it to.

"Steve! A little help here!" Drew called while shoving the dumpster with the most of his strength.

Steve looked around with wide eyes, not expecting to be called out for such a task.

"Damn it! Now!" Zack yelled.

That seemed to get through and the man moved over to help out. "On three," Steve said, finding his place between Zack and Drew. "One…two…three!" All of them pushed at once, and by some God-given miracle, the dumpster moved. The three of them managed to push it easily into place.

"Move!" all three of them yelled at the same time. Josh and Terry moved back from the door right as the dumpster slid over the door, blocking it. There were more bumps and thumps as the zombies on the inside found their path blocked by the unmovable object.

"Nice one," Josh said as he took deep breaths. "They almost had us for a second there."

"No time for celebration," Terry said simply. "We have to get out of here." More moans coming from the street reminded them of that truth.

They moved quickly. Drew finally took the time to reload both of his weapons as they moved through the alley. They turned onto the street and were greeted by more zombies.

"Damn!" Steve yelled. "Where are they all coming from?"

_Now's not the time for questions,_ Drew thought as he fired a shot into a middle-aged woman in a jogging suit. The headband she wore on her head fell to the ground when Drew's bullet cut through it. The woman was quick to follow suit.

"Just keep going!" Terry yelled, firing his shotgun at the head of a teenage boy with black hair that had been showered red.

_He couldn't be that much older than Michael,_ Drew thought for no apparent reason at all, watching the boy's lifeless (_was there even life in it before? _Drew wondered) fall to the ground.

They ran, passing store fronts and parked cars with little difference. Josh knew where he was going and he was leading the group down the streets.

Ahead of them, a bald man in business clothes was crouched over the body of an older man. He was feasting on his guts, pulling them greedily to his mouth and smacking his wet lips with contentment. Josh shot the man in the back of the head, and the bald man fell limply onto what had been his feast. As Drew passed them, he remarked how strange the setup seemed. It almost looked like the two were embracing each other, protecting each other from the nightmare that surrounded them.

The group made sure to stick to the middle of the roads. That way no undead could sneak up on them from the alleyways and other storefronts. That didn't stop them from attracting them, however. As the group jogged down the street— shooting only the zombies that got too close for comfort— more shuffled casually towards them.

"Are we ever going to be able to get away from all of them!" Steve called out loudly. He fired another shot from his handgun, but it missed, hitting the zombie in the chest instead of the head.

"Got to try!" Drew yelled back.

That was the unthinkable happened: Terry fell to the ground, coughing and sputtering.

Zack was first to notice and the first to say something. "Terry! Get up!"

This statement caused Josh to whip around, temporarily forgetting about their destination. He ran back faster than Drew had ever seen the drummer move. He passed the bassist with determined eyes.

The zombies that had chased them were now getting too close to Terry, and the security guard wasn't moving. He only remained crouched down on one knee, coughing up a lung by the sounds of it.

_Damn it! Move, Terry, move!_ Drew yelled in his mind. He had tried to holler it out, but his lips never moved. All he could do was stare at the scene. His gun was raised, yet he didn't fire a single shot. It was as if the world had just forgotten about Drew Walker, freezing him in time.

Five zombies approached the falling security guard, eagerly awaiting their meal. Just when one made a lunge for him, Josh was close enough to open up his fire. The lunging zombie fell down in a heap, and another was quick to follow.

"Get the fuck away from him!" Josh snarled, standing in front of Terry defensively. The pistol in his hand jerked quickly as he unloaded a salvo of hot lead into the zombies. Another fell with a well placed headshot, but the anger boiling in Josh's blood at the thought of losing someone else caused his shots to stray from their original mark. Bullet holes pockmarked the chest of one of the zombies, spraying blood from the wounds. The other took the shots in the gut, one even managing to destroy the creature's kneecap. However, these wounds were not enough to hinder their progress. The creature's still plodded on, oblivious of their wounds, getting closer to them.

"Get up! Fucking move, Terry!" Josh yelled hysterically as he continued to fire his gun, unmindful of the fact that it only issued out dry _clicks_.

"Go on without me!" Terry yelled back. "Just forget about me! I'll hold them off!"

"Don't think so," Zack said, suddenly appearing at his brother's side. His shotgun was stored safely in its harness, and his handgun was out. He took one look to the right, to his brother. He flashed a smile and a chuckle. "Hey, dumbass, you forgot to reload your gun."

Josh frowned, but Zack had gotten through. He ejected his spent clip and slammed in a new one. Together, the brother's stood side by side, shooting their handguns at the approaching army of the undead.

Michael and Steve both watched this scene with interest, but they made sure to watch out for any other zombies. After all, the mass that had gathered behind them weren't the only ones on the street. Plenty of undead to go around.

Drew finally snapped back into action. For a moment his mind was gone, collecting thoughts, but failing to put any of them into action. In essence, his mind was sending the signals, but his body failed to pick them up. However, they had finally aligned their frequencies, and he was back to himself.

He ran over to Terry, ignoring the zombies.

_Let Josh and Zack handle them, _Drew said to himself, walking himself through the steps he needed to take. _Just get Terry back onto his feet, so you can all get the hell out of here._

"Let's go," Drew said, grabbing the security guard by the shoulders and attempting to drag him to his feet. Despite his amazing plan, Drew had forgotten one thing: Terry's weight. The security guard was a big man, and there was a lot of weight to prove it. "Come on! You gotta work with me!"

"I told you guys to just leave me," Terry mumbled under his breath. "I'm no good to anyone. You guys will just regret this later, I swear."

"Get over it," Drew yelled, still pulling with all his strength. "I already told you. We'll drag your fat ass all the way down the street if we have to. No way we're leaving you."

"Thanks," Terry said, giving a weak smile. That was when Drew noticed how Terry looked. At first, his initial concern had been just been one simple thing: Terry was on the ground. He didn't even ask why— all that mattered was that Terry was on the ground. Now, some eyebrows were being raised.

He could see that the security guard's face was much paler. _Had it always been that pale?_ Drew questioned. _No, there was no way. That's way to unhealthy for it too be normal. Well, it is normal, but not for living people. It's more typical for one of them, the zombies._

Was Terry sick? If so, what was ailing him? Could it be the same thing that had affected all the other people, turning them into the undead?

_No,_ Drew thought simply. _That's not possible. There's no virus that could do that. Whatever created these things was not a virus. That much is for certain._

The questions went unanswered as Drew finally managed to haul the security guard back to his feet. The result was only short-lived, however, for Terry quickly fell back to his knees.

"Little help?" Drew called out, looking past the giant's form to see the two brothers.

Josh shot another man who seemed to already be missing a generous portion of his skull in the face, and Drew noticed that the group of zombies was getting closer. They were running out of time. The drummer nodded silently, shooting one last zombie before turning back to help out his friends. Zack stayed, and Drew realized that the singer had withdrawn his shotgun.

Funny, he never remembered hearing the trademark _BOOM! _It sure was strange that such a detail could escape him, yet he knew why. His mind had already tuned out the gunshots, accepting them for the norm. The same way a big city person could block out the sounds of traffic and things of that nature.

Josh ducked his head under Terry's shoulder and helped lighten the load. Drew followed suit on the other side. Josh took one look at the bassist before giving a nod. With that, both stood up, supporting Terry's large form in between them. They moved slowly, but at least they were moving, and given that zombies weren't incredible sprinters either, they were still in good shape. When they had managed to move far enough away from the crowd, Zack stopped firing his shotgun (Drew didn't notice this either.) and took Drew's spot.

Both of the brothers were strong, fit, and bigger than Drew, so he didn't object. They managed to move noticeably faster then. Steve and Michael fell onto the sides, protecting the group from any zombies. They didn't have much to worry about. For some reason, most zombies seemed to group up, and there were only a few strays left behind. It was weird. It was almost like the zombies were not just a group of individuals, but more like one giant organism. They were like cells, making up the being of an organism. They managed to move past most of the strays before they attracted their attention.

Drew walked in front, listening for Josh's directions. It didn't take him long to figure out where they were going. Drew was starting to recognize the stores and streets, and he thought he had a good guess where they were heading. It was the only real place the band knew in this city, the hotel.

_Good enough place as any, _Drew thought. _Maybe I'll actually get a chance to sleep in a bed. Would that be too much to ask for?_

Drew didn't think so, but it wasn't his call to make.

* * *

_A/N: Yes! I managed to get this done early, but the chapter is probably the shortest one I've written so far. Oh well, sometimes sacrifices must be made. Hope you guys liked the action. I promised more action and I hoped I delivered upon it. I don't think I've ever had this much action, so I was a little worried about it at first. Somehow I thought it would be a little more grand, but maybe that was just me. Still, tell me what you think this chapter, and maybe some ways it could be improved upon._


	10. The Hunt on 42nd Street

_A/N: Just a little changeup, the authors note is now at the beginning instead of the end (duh!). This chapter is a lot longer than the previous ones, even managing to beat the very first chapter (the longest one so far) in length. I might have been able to squeeze this into two smaller chapters, but I've been getting stingy lately and I wanted to reward the faithful readers. Keeping that note, I want to thank everyone for reviewing, and I anxiously await hearing your opinions on this chapter, so don't forget to review._

_One more thing (nothing more than a shameful plug, really), I have added another Resident Evil story at the same time as this one. That is why the wait for this one has been so long. I had this idea I just had to get out of my head before continuing and I completed it a few days before completing this chapter. Just head to my Author's Page and check it out if your interested._

_That said, enjoy the latest chapter of Last Man Standing.

* * *

_**Chapter Ten— The Hunt on 42nd Street**

In the distance, the hotel was clearly visible, stretching into the night sky. The night had masked its formal beauty, but it was still magnificent. Lights outlined the edges of the hotel, framing it in a delicate radiance. Josh thought he could stand where he was and stare at it all day. His mind became enraptured with its soft brilliance. He could have stood there until the equally beautiful sun made its climb over the horizon. He could have easily done that, but the hotel also seemed to call to him. Its glow beckoned Josh to it, like a moth to the flames, but that wasn't exactly right. No, it was guiding Josh and his company towards safety, not death. Like the north star that guided the three wise men to their savior.

The sextet grew closer and closer to the tall tower. They were still blocks away, but its very presence seemed to be reassuring. It was the end of the line, the thin strip of paper that separated the runner from the end of the race, from the win.

xXxXx

Zack sighed with relief when he saw the building up ahead. He glanced back and noticed that the zombies that had chased them for so long were gone. He wasn't sure of the exact "when" they had decided to move onto other things, nor did he care. They were gone, and Zack and his friends were safe. That was all that mattered.

The building wasn't the Lux Cher hotel, but it was a welcome sight anyway. It was the music shop, so lovingly referred to as the MUSIC JUNKIE STORE. They had stopped here on the way to the concert, and it only made sense to stop on the way back. Funny how things had a way of repeating themselves.

"Looks familiar," Zack said out loud sarcastically.

"Sure does," Josh said with almost no tone in his voice.

It was the first time any of them had said anything since dragging Terry to his feet. The group had remained dead quiet, and it bothered the singer very much. Part of it was from the fact that with no talk amongst the members it became far too easy to hear the screams in the night. There were far less of them (still, there was more of them then gunshots) now, and that made everything worse. The thought of him and his friends being the last of the last didn't bode well in Zack's mind. It was a cancerous thought with no real point at all. All it did was destroy your hope, effectively destroying the rest of you as well.

The other unsettling part of the silence was the particular fact of how the silence had been made. It had all arisen from Terry's fall and declining health. Zack was sure the others (definitely his brother, at least) were racking their brains with questions of why Terry had fallen like that. How had he gotten so sick? What's wrong with him? Will he be okay? And other questions of those sorts.

The worst part of it was, Zack knew all the answers.

He had been bitten by a zombie.

He was turning into a zombie.

And, of course, no, he will not be okay. He's going to turn and we won't be able to do anything about.

That pretty much answered all the questions, yet he kept the answers to himself.

Ever since discovering that horrible secret at the antique shop, the secret had been wanting to jump from his lips on more than one occasion. He had almost spilled the beans when Josh had asked him what was wrong back at the antique shop, and as he carried Terry with help from his brother, the secret had been ready to slip at any moment. He had worked himself up over how to talk to his brother about the situation (he couldn't even imagine how to break it to Terry) on plenty of occasions, but every time he was ready to open his mouth, he kept it snapped shut. He couldn't say anything because any conversation he would have with his brother would have to pass through the ears of the giant between them. Zack didn't want Terry to know just yet; he wasn't sure how he'd handle it.

What was he supposed to say anyways? "Hey guess what, Josh? Terry's going to turn into one of the zombies and we're going to have to shoot him." Yeah, real sound plan.

"We should stop," Josh said. "Terry's in no condition to be moving around right now, and at least the place is familiar."

"Yeah," Zack agreed. "Besides this fat, lazy bastard is starting to get heavy. Wish he'd stop being a wimp and walk by himself."

Terry managed to flash a weak smile at the singer that made Zack feel worse. The whole point of the joke was to relieve the tension, but that smile destroyed it. It was the smile of a defeated man, the smile of someone who is seeing the last of their days. "Lazy, huh? Thought you were just being a good Samaritan, but if I'm that much of a burden, I can walk." There was an awkward silence. "After all, maybe you're right. Maybe this fat ass needs to walk and lose a few pounds."

"Don't be ridiculous," Zack said, readjusting Terry's weight on his shoulder. "We're going to stop here anyway. Make no sense for you to walk from here. Besides, after your rest, you can carry me to the hotel. It'll be a far trade, don't ya think?"

Terry laughed then put his hand out as if to shake. Zack looked surprised, but he took it anyway and shook it a few times. He didn't really enjoy the fact that Terry's grip was so weak. It was like shaking hands with a toddler. You had to be careful when you gripped them otherwise they could move away with a few broken fingers.

"You got yourself a deal," the security guard said as Zack shook his hand gently.

Drew grabbed the door handles and held the door open for everyone.

Zack graciously gave a nod of thanks as he helped Terry through the door. Josh and him brought the security guard's large body over to the front counter. The cash register was open and bone dry, and Zack didn't have to ask wonder where the money went. There were some miscellaneous pamphlets on the desk. One was jet black and said in bright red letters, "MEET LAST MAN STANDING TODAY!"

Zack knocked these on to the floor with little concern. As far as he was concerned, there was no Last Man Standing anymore. How could there be one when they were missing their guitarist, one of the best men of the world in Zack's eyes? Just looking at the band name made Zack angry. He wanted nothing more than to burn those pamphlets, letting the fire erase their words.

Terry gave a deep grunt when Josh and Zack set him down, but other than that, he did not complain.

"How ya holding up?" Josh asked with notable concern in his green eyes.

"Could be better," Terry grunted. He paused before looking up at the brothers with another weak smile. "Could use a beer though."

"Don't think this is the best time for that pal," Josh said, returning the smile.

Zack turned his attention away from the two and looked at their surroundings.

The place had changed considerably. CD's littered the floor. Some of the cases had been smashed, sending chunks of reflective plastic all over the floor. The tiny glimmering slivers reminded Zack of broken glass. One whole self had been completely toppled over. Perhaps the strangest thing though was the absence of music. When they had first came into the store, music had been playing in the background, but the hard rock that had been playing before was replaced by complete silence. Not for the first time, Zack wished for some normal noise, something he had heard before everything had gone to hell.

Zack opened his mouth, about to talk about how quiet the place was, when someone cut him off.

"Hey! Shouldn't we be moving?" Steve spoke up, but his voice was far from questioning. It was challenging. "Those things are still after us!"

Josh turned, looking sternly at the man. "No," he said simply. "We stay here." With that said, Zack's brother just turned his attention back to Terry. He was using some t-shirts to make a make-shift bandage around Terry's chest, which had started to bleed and spill pus again.

"I'm serious," Steve said, raising up. He moved closer to Josh. "I don't want to be here when those things come back."

"Too bad," Josh said without looking at the older man. "We're staying here, end of discussion."

"And who put you in charge?" Steve objected. Zack saw the man's hands curl into fists, and he realized what was going on.

Josh realized it too. He turned around and looked at Steve with a mix of shock and anger. "So this is what it's about, huh? You have to prove you're the alpha male?" He paused, looked down at the boy who stood behind Steve. "Sure that's the best idea?"

Zack sighed. He knew his brother all too well. How many occasions had Josh and he fought before? It was hard to tell, but what he had fought him enough to know when Josh was getting serious.

Steve gulped. Zack could tell the man hadn't been expecting to put on the spotlight in such a way. _Must have thought Josh would just let him do what he wanted,_ Zack thought with dry humor. _Now he's going to find out how wrong he was._

Josh didn't wait for Steve answer, he was already talking. "You'd like to just keep moving, wouldn't you? Well, too fucking bad." he pointed over to Terry. The security guard was sitting on the counter weakly, but he was watching the scene with interest. "Something is wrong with my friend. He's sick, and he's having a little trouble moving around right now. So we're going to rest. Got it?"

Steve moved closer to Josh so that they stood almost chest to chest. Josh stared down at Steve. Though Steve was older, Josh was bigger. Zack was pretty sure he knew who would come out on top if fists started being swung.

"Those things are getting closer," Steve hissed through his teeth. Zack wondered where the man had gotten the courage to stand up to Josh like this. Throughout the entire time Zack had been with him, the man had seemed afraid of his own shadow, yet here he was, challenging a man who was stronger than him for authority. "We can't stay here and just wait for them to slaughter us."

"They aren't going to slaughter us. We're safe here."

"But for how long?"

"We're staying until my friend is ready to move on."

"No, we're leaving."

"We're staying."

"Fuck you and you're friend. We're going!"

Zack saw his brother curl his hand into a fist and that was when things turned noticeably south. Josh shoved out with both of his hands. Zack wasn't sure if he had intended for Steve to go down, but the man had. Steve waved his arms in large circles in an attempt to stay balanced, but it was fruitless. He toppled over and landed roughly on his back. Zack heard an audible whoosh of air shoot from Steve's mouth.

Zack expected his brother to use this opportune moment to jump on top of Steve and beat the shit out of him, but his brother didn't. He only stood there, looking down at the man with an intense gaze.

"You know why you want to leave?" Josh asked in a powerful voice. Zack knew this as what he referred to as his brother's "pissed off voice." Steve didn't answer; he only looked up at the drummer with eyes that seemed to widen to twice their normal size. "It's because you're a fucking coward!" Josh continued. "You just wanna keep going and act like my friend isn't hurt over there. For all we know he could be dying, yet you wanna keep moving— you selfish bastard. You don't care about any of us. You just care about your own damn self! That's how you're a coward.! You just wanna run because that's what cowards do. They fucking run!"

He paused, breathing heavily from his tirade. He looked Steve up and down once before turning his back and walking over to Terry. The fire had left his belly, but he wasn't finished talking.

"Go," Josh spoke softly— a welcome change from the incensed tone he had used earlier. "If you're really worried that much about those things out there, just leave. Save your own skin at least, right?" He turned back now, looking Steve straight in the eyes. "Just don't expect any of us to follow you." There was a pause, then Josh delivered the last verbal punch. "We're not cowards."

Those last three words were like a KO punch. Steve stood back up and walked away slowly towards a corner. To Zack he looked like a stray dog walking away with its tail between its legs, a dog that had been beaten for that little scrap of food by a stronger dog. The man passed by Zack without a word. The singer could see a fire brewing in the man's eyes, and Zack had a hunch this wouldn't be the last time the two tussled.

Zack watched the two of them separate, and for a second it seemed like some strange force had left the air. It was strange how the tension had built up between the two, seeming to form a wall of electricity between them. However, now that the crisis had been absolved, the strange feeling in the air had vanished. That was good.

Josh moved back to Terry, but the security guard waved him off, mumbling something Zack couldn't hear. His heart gave a ring of pain at the sight of the man. He couldn't imagine what the man was going through, and it was at that moment that Zack decided to tell the man what was going on. He had a right to know, after all. The more Zack thought about it, them more he realized that if their positions had been switched, he would want Terry to tell him exactly what was going on.

He took a deep breath and moved towards the duo.

"Hey, Terry," he called out amiably, and it was the first time (at least that he could think of) where he had to act like he was happy. "How ya holding up?"

"I keep telling your stubborn brother that I'm fine," he grunted back. "Damn fool won't believe me."

Zack looked over at his brother, who was listening to some music at a sample station. Right now, he seemed totally engrossed in the music, or maybe he was deep in thought. Somehow, Zack knew it was a combination of the two. Most of the time, when Josh liked to think deep and hard about something, he listened to music. It was very much like the way some monks would meditate by a babbling brook. For that, in essence, was what Josh was doing, meditating.

"Yeah, he can get like that," Zack agreed. He looked around once more, figuring out the location of everyone. Drew had moved over to Steve and Michael, and the three of them sat conversing. Zack smiled inward at the sight. Drew was trying to smooth things over with the man, and God love him for trying. Though, Zack had a hunch nothing Drew would say would change the man's mind.

When he saw that no one was in earshot, he turned back to the security guard. "Listen," he said in a hushed voice. "I got some potentially upsetting news for you."

This got Terry's attention fast. He sat up, wincing at the pain, and looked gravely at the singer; all business. "What is it?"

Zack sighed. Here was the tricky part. All this time he had fought so hard to keep the secret a secret, yet here he was, ready to spill his guts and he couldn't say the words! Talk about irony. The words fumbled around in his mouth, but he eventually got it out.

"I think…I think you might turn into one of them."

Terry sighed, looked over at the window (the shades were drawn as to not attract the attention outside, alive or otherwise) then looked back at the singer. "I had a feeling something like this would happen, but how do you know for sure?"

"The shopkeeper at the antique store. When I went downstairs to get the keys from him, he got back up." Zack's mind began drifting, reliving the experience one more time. It was something he would never forget, not even if he lived to be one-hundred years old.

"I can still remember how cold the man was. I mean, I was reaching in his pocket and I felt his leg. It had already gone cold." He looked at Terry with a questioning look. "Can you believe that? Not even fifteen minutes and the body had gone cold." He shuddered slightly, nothing more than a light and quick shake, but he felt it nonetheless. "I found the keys and walked away, happy to be done with it, but he got back up. I didn't take more than three steps before I heard that damn moaning." He paused, looked around once more to make sure no one was looking then continued. "He…or it, I'm not even sure anymore, tried to bite me, and I pushed it down to the floor and stomped on its head."

While he said this, Terry said nothing. He only looked intently at Zack, seeming to absorb every word. "So it is true, then," he finally spoke when Zack was done.

Zack saw the downtrodden look on his friend's face and attempted to dissolve it. "You know, you were only scratched. You could be fine. You know, your body could fight it off."

"Nice try," Terry said. "But I can feel it in me. I know I'll turn. I just know it, but I don't know when." H stopped and fixed Zack with the most intense stare the singer had ever seen. It almost looked like Terry had lost his mind. "If I turn, I want you to put me down. For my own good."

Zack only stared wide-mouthed. Finally, he understood and nodded his head slowly. "I'm not going to enjoy it, but I'll do it."

_It is what I would want too,_ Zack realized. _It's much better to be dead than be one of those rotting things. It's better to stay dead._

There was an awkward silence between the two, and Zack hated it. However, there was nothing he could do about it; he couldn't think of anything to say. It was Terry who spoke up again.

"You tell the others yet?"

"No, I thought you should know first."

"Good, good. I don't want to scare the others, so if at all possible, we should keep this between us."

"Right," Zack nodded in agreement.

"I don't want to think how Josh would take it, nor would I want to see how that Steve guy would handle it. He'd probably put a bullet in me right now and save us the trouble."

Zack said nothing, he only nodded his head slowly in agreement.

xXxXx

"I think it's time we got a move on," Josh said finally. He looked over at Terry as if to confirm this, and the security guard nodded in agreement. Everyone rose up silently and grabbed their weapons. The sound of safety's being flicked off filled the air.

Josh moved towards the front of the store. The windows had had their shades drawn and Josh looked peeked through them curiously. It was dark out and he couldn't see much, but under the few streetlights that still managed to work, he saw packs of zombies moving under them.

_Can't go this way,_ Josh thought simply. _Unless we're suicidal._

"Going to have to go out the back," he announced to the rest of the group. He moved towards the back of the store and the others followed. Josh was surprised to see Steve helping Zack carry Terry's form towards the back. Maybe he had been wrong about Steve. Maybe Steve was just trying to help out.

Above the door was a red neon EXIT sign. Josh placed his hands on the metal bar used to open it, yet he didn't push it open right away.

_What if there's more of them out there? _he questioned. _It could be like the gas station all over again. We could be walking into more of them._

_What other choice do we have? It's now or never. _Josh took a deep breath before pushing the door open, rather roughly too as to knock out any zombie standing on the other side.

As soon as the door was opened, Josh stepped back, raising his handgun. He was met by nothing but the chilling air. "All clear," he said quietly before stepping out. The others followed him into the alley.

They followed the alley, walking slowly. Josh kept expecting something to leap out at him from behind a dumpster, but nothing came. That was a relief, but the sight at the end of the alley was not.

The left the alley for 42nd Street, and this was where the deaths seemed to have taken their highest toll.

"Jesus," Josh heard someone say softly behind him. He recognized the voice, but he couldn't place it. His mind was too focused on the grisly sight before him.

Bodies lay strewn about on the asphalt, turning the black and gray to red. It almost looked like it had rained blood on everything. The bodies themselves had been torn apart so viciously that most of these people wouldn't even be able to be recognized by their own mothers. Deep gashes were imbedded in their bodies, and bite marks littered the victims flesh. From all the blood and body parts it looked like someone had dumped all these bodies into a combine. Just looking at it made Josh want to vomit, but he managed to hold it down.

Here, everything was beyond real, almost _surreal._ It was some twisted nightmare come to life, and the worst part of it was, he could _sense _it. He wasn't just seeing it with his eyes: he could smell the rotting stench of human decay, he could hear the screams of torment and agony, he could taste death in the air and it clung to the roof of his mouth. The urge to vomit grew stronger— it was the strongest urge he had ever felt in his life— yet he kept it controlled again. Some others weren't as lucky.

Steve had thrown up. His stomach was empty already, but his body was still trying to heave up some more. All that came up were dry, retching heaves. Zack stood silent, still supporting Terry while Steve tried to take control of his stomach again. Drew had grabbed a hold of the kid, Michael and was steering him away from the massacre.

"It's so bad," Josh spoke softly, barely above a whisper. "But we got to keep moving." He walked forward, his legs protested at first, but once he got it started it seemed like they couldn't stop. He looked up at the night sky, just trying to find something to look at besides the blood. They were finally on the home stretch. Up ahead, he could see the hotel, standing tall and breathtaking in the nighttime sky.

Behind him, the others followed.

He trudged through the war zone that had once been a street. . He was careful not to step in any puddles (_of blood, _Josh reminded himself) and he steered around the corpses. He didn't even dare to set his gaze on their faces. He knew these faces would only show pain and suffering, and their eyes would stare straight into the very being of his soul. He tried to keep his eyes locked onto the hotel, but he couldn't help but see the slaughter.

Josh's eyes didn't avoid the bloody mess, they absorbed it. He saw every graphic detail. He saw the eyes of the corpses— some blue, some green, and some brown— staring out of their sockets. He saw the matted blood on their clothes and in their hair. He even saw the dirt and blood that was stuck under the corpses fingernails.

To his left, he saw a lone finger laying on the ground. The finger was uncurled and it seemed to point directly at Josh, accusing him. It was like he was at the theatre again.

_You didn't save any of us,_ the finger seemed to say. _It's all your fault that these people are dead._ Josh knew that was impossible. After all, how was he responsible for all these people? How could he have saved them? The simple answer was: he couldn't. However, to the finger, it didn't matter.

_All your fault,_ the finger whispered. _It's always your fault, and it always will be. You couldn't' save anyone, and you never will. Everyone in your group is going to die, and it will be your fault. Always your fault._

Josh didn't argue with the finger, he knew it would do no good. After all, it was just an inanimate object; it couldn't really speak to him. Josh wondered if he was going insane. In truth, he wouldn't be surprised.

A dead body lay next to the finger (hands full of all ten digits, making Josh wonder where the mysterious finger came from) with its necks ripped open. Josh's eyes sunk into the image and he swore he could see the bone inside the neck, glistening in the pale street light. His feet plodded through a puddle of crimson liquid. _How much of that is water? And much of that is blood?_ he wondered.

_So many. Could they really have killed so many? _Thoughts raced through Josh's head faster than the bullets in his gun seemed to travel. _They didn't even eat all of them. They just took out pieces and chunks. And now, there's no one left but us._ It was huge exaggeration, seeing how it was impossible that everyone in the city had been on 42nd Street at that time, but there was some truth behind the belief. There had been a great loss in human life tonight (_but a great increase in _in_human life tonight,_ Josh bitterly thought), but everyone couldn't be dead. Not yet, at least.

As the group moved slowly through the carnage, a thought occurred to Josh. There were no zombies here. With that came the realization that zombies must not have done this damage. Maybe some of the bite marks belonged to some passing zombies, but these people certainly hadn't been killed by the undead creatures. The slash marks were too deep and wide to be made from human hands. Whatever had done this had been packing some decent claws to do damaged like this. _But what could have done this?_ Josh questioned. He would soon get his answer.

The group had managed to pass half the distance from the record store to the hotel before they were attacked again.

Josh noticed that bodies seemed to be thinning, and he sighed with relief. The worst was over, or so he believed.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

They passed an overturned station wagon which seemed to have exploded some time ago. That was when Josh heard a new noise he hadn't heard before. There was a high pitched animalistic shriek before something leapt from one of the buildings and onto the street before Josh.

The figure landed gracefully, even though it had fallen from a height better than twenty feet. In the pale moonlight, Josh could see very detail about this new creature and it made his skin crawl.

It almost looked like a gorilla. Except, it was covered in shimmering green scales that belonged to a reptile. Its face looked reptilian as well. Its eyes glowed red like embers, and these embers stared directly into Josh's own eyes. It reared back, letting loose another piercing shriek. The sound was even worse up close. Josh's eardrums seemed ready to explode, and he had to put his hands to his ears to block out the screech.

The creature then leapt directly at Josh, slashing its eight inch claws at him. Josh didn't think— didn't even have time to think. He raised his gun and prepared to shoot his gun. Before he could get off a shot there was a resounding _BOOM_! and the beast was blown backwards by an unseen force.

"Back off from my brother," Zack spat viciously, stepping up next to Josh. He pumped an extra round into his shotgun and trained it on the creature's form, just in case it got back up.

Josh stood there amazed at how close he had come to dying. _Just a little slower,_ he thought. _And I would have been sliced to ribbons. That things claws were like knives! How could something like that even exist?_

The creature in question started to writhe in pain on the ground. It rolled over onto its stomach and tried to crawl away. This time, Josh's gun did fire, and the demon laid still.

"What the _fuck_ was that!" Steve yelled behind Josh. The drummer only shook his head. Suddenly, more feral cries pierced the air, causing Josh to look up into the night sky.

"I don't know," he said finally. "But if you don't wanna find out, we better hurry."

Another figure jumped in front of the group, attempting to seal off their escape, but Josh was already a step ahead. He raised his handgun and fired three shots. They did nothing to the demon. Its body shook from the shots, but that was the only effect the bullets had on the nightmarish creatures. Determined to kill the thing, Josh tucked the handgun in his belt and pulled out the magnum. He fired one shot (it was all it took) into the neck of the creature. Thick blood spilled from the wound, and the creature toppled to the ground, writhing much like the one before had.

"Hurry up!" Josh yelled. Another of the demons charged at him and he had time to wonder where all of them were coming from before firing the gun. The creature's skull blew apart into a blood and bone shards.

He stopped and spun around. The others moved by him quickly. Drew was leading the way, magnum drawn, and Zack and Steve were following, supporting Terry between the two. Behind all of them was Michael. Josh felt a pang of sorrow for the poor boy. It was one thing to see creatures like these at Josh's age, but at the kid's age, it must be traumatizing.

Josh watched them go by then refocused his attention to the creature's charging up the hill at them. He pulled the trigger, sending a bullet through the eye of another beast. As the creature fell to the ground, Josh turned and followed his companions.

The cars and buildings on the side of the street became a blur as he rushed after his friends. Another demon came charging at him, emerging from its hiding spot in a darkened alley. Josh fired at it, but the shot sailed wide. It leapt into the air, teeth and claws gleaming in the moonlight. Josh saw what it was doing, and he leaped to the side, dodging what would surely have been a lethal blow. He fired the last shot in the chamber of his magnum directly at the things hideous face. He grimaced as the skull exploded.

He chased after his friends, putting in another speed loader as he did so. He was running out of ammo for this gun fast. This was his last load. After it ran out, he'd have to resort to his handgun— not the most pleasant of ideas.

Ahead of him, Zack fired his shotgun into the chest of one of the beasts, sending it to the ground. Drew had taken out his magnum as well and was using it to punch holes in the heads of the nightmarish creatures. Michael and his father stayed close together and fired their own handguns madly into anything that got too close. Josh was more than surprised to see that they were managing to bag a few demons of their own.

They were getting closer now. They were almost to the entrance of the hotel. From there, they'd have to run through the garden then they'd be in the lobby, home free. Or so Josh hoped.

It didn't take long for them to be running on the cold, wet grass of the garden instead of hard cement. The hotel doors were close, close enough for Josh to see the pale light inside the lobby.

_Yes!_ he thought ecstatically. _We're here!_ _We're safe!_

All that hope quickly faded when he saw Drew try to open the doors. They didn't budge. They were locked out of the hotel with demons from hell chasing them.

"Open them, damn it!" Josh yelled as he ran up to the group, the creatures still in hot pursuit.

"Can't!" Drew yelled hysterically, and Josh could see the bassist was almost in tears. "Damn power's out! Doors won't open!"

_So close,_ Josh thought dismayed. _We go through all this hell to get here, only to be locked outside and torn apart by some skinless gorillas with eight-inch claws. It just isn't fair!_

"Wait," Terry said weakly. "There's gotta be a back door. Something so you can get into the kitchen."

"Go then! Go!" Josh yelled. He turned around, ready to fire his gun to give his companions some more time. One of the creature's charged at him and he fired coldly into its skull, obliterating its head. The panic he had originally felt had been replaced by grim resolve. He would protect his friends. He wouldn't let anything happen to them. He had already failed Adam and the others, but he wouldn't fail them.

He followed the others, but he made sure none of the demons got too close. Five more shots, five more creatures dead.

The group turned around the corner of the building, and Josh nearly wept with joy. There was a door there, and it was already slightly jarred open.

_Thank God!_ he thought. _We can make it!_

At the sight of the door, Drew slowed down and helped Zack carry Terry. Steven and Michael made it to the door safely. They turned around and guarded the others with their handguns.

Josh turned as well, ready to protect the other three so that they'd get inside safely. He was willing to risk his own life if necessary. He was willing to die to slow down these devils.

He watched one of the creatures get in range, and he fired. The gun clicked empty.

"Damn it!" he cursed. In his excitement of finding a way in, he had forgotten that he had used the last of his magnum ammo. He looked up, and he saw the creature's red eyes grow with excitement. It was like the creature saw Josh's moment of weakness and was overjoyed from it. It shrieked (sounding ecstatic to Josh) as it leapt into the air, closing the distance by a good ten feet in a single bound.

The monster fell upon Josh, knocking him off of his feet. He brought up his hands in an attempt to defend himself, and luckily his hand grabbed the creatures throat, stopping it from closing its jaws around his own neck. The creature's fetid breath washed across his face, smelling strongly of chemicals and blood. Josh gagged, but he didn't let his grip weaken— he couldn't afford to do such a thing, it'd mean sure death.

While one hand was occupied, he used the other one to reach for the handgun tucked away in his belt. Before he had a chance to grab the gun, a foot was flung into the ribs of the creature, kicking it off of him.

Josh looked up and saw Zack standing over him. His brother fired a buckshot right into the head of the demon that had pinned Josh down just a second ago. The creature's face seemed to cave in on itself, spraying blood and white fragments of bone and teeth.

"Need some help?" Zack asked almost casually. He reached down and offered Josh a helping hand. Josh took it without question.

"Thanks," Josh said when he was standing again.

"No problem," Zack said. They were interrupted by another screech. He nodded towards the door. "After you."

Josh tucked the magnum back into his waistband as he ran. The gun may have ran out of bullets already, but that didn't mean he couldn't get some more. He pulled out his handgun with the same motion. It might not do much to those skinless gorillas chasing him, but it was better than punching them with his fists.

Another feral cry pierced the air, and Josh looked back. Another one of the demons leapt, seeming to take flight. He saw its teeth and claws gleam in the moonlight, and he realized he couldn't dodge this one. Those claws were going into him whether he liked it or not.

Before the claws could strike, a set of hands— human hands— shoved Josh roughly, pushing him to the side. He fell in a pile, shaken and confused at what just happened. He looked up with puzzled eyes, seeing everything, yet wishing he hadn't.

His brother stood where he had been, grappling with the demon. A side of his combat jacket had been torn apart from the creature's claws and blood spilled onto the green grass. Zack was standing up, though. His shotgun was placed horizontally across the beast's neck, halting the progress of its mouth. The beast drooled on the gun, and the saliva fell from it in thick strands to the grass below.

"Zack!" Josh called out, still laying on the cool grass. He raised his gun to fire, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. From his angle, it would be impossible to hit the creature; he would only hit his brother.

"Get out of here!" Zack called. There was no pain to his voice, to Josh's surprise. There was anger there, but most of all it was authority. Zack understood what he was doing, and he didn't regret it. Josh could tell that just by the sound of his voice. "I can take care of myself! I'm a big kid now!"

"No!" Josh yelled back. Tears had already began to sting his eyes. "No one has to die!"

He moved forward to help his brother out, but someone grabbed onto him, pulling him towards the door, towards safety while his brother was content with staying outside. Josh flailed his arms, freeing himself, but more hands grasped his arms, pulling him in.

"Damn it! Let go!" he screamed, trying his best to free himself. Suddenly, his feet were no longer in the dewy grass but instead, solid ground. He vaguely realized he was now in the kitchen. He saw Zack still struggling with the creature as the steel door shut, blocking him from his brother.

"No!" he screamed one last time, but there was nothing more he could do. He was locked inside, his brother outside. He was in safety, but his brother had been damned to stay outside in hell, to stay outside and be torn apart. Josh wished he could trade places with his brother. He would give anything to do that.

xXxXx

Zack gritted his teeth and pushed off with all the strength he could muster. The monster was pushed back a little bit, but its clawed feet quickly re-found their purchase in the soft ground. The creature's hot breath washed over Zack, gagging him.

_Get a tic-tac, bud,_ Zack thought, but didn't dare speak. All of his strength was being devoted to keeping this demon from piercing its incredibly sharp fangs into his neck. The claws themselves had proven to be dangerously sharp. He had found that out first hand. Surprisingly, there was very little pain in his side. At first, it had been excruciating, but then it had quickly numbed over. Now, he only felt a light sensation of pain. Almost as if it was coming from miles away.

_Just a flesh wound, _he thought, thinking of the Black Knight from that famous movie, bringing a thin smile to his lips.

Behind him, the door swung shut, and Zack could breathe a sigh of relief. They were safe. That was what was important. He looked over the shoulder of the beast and saw more of the skinless gorillas charging towards the wrestling duo. He was running out of time.

Trying a different approach, Zack dropped to the ground, letting the creature's own momentum carry itself over him. The creature let out a surprised squeal before he turned around and gave it a slug to the face.

Now that he was free, he reloaded his shotgun and pumped it. He turned defiantly towards the pack of demons charging at him. They grew closer, yet Zack didn't shoot. He watched them charge, waiting for the first one to leap into the air, but not one of them did.The group of creatures moved around him, surrounding all three hundred and sixty degrees. He turned slowly, trying to keep his eyes on all of them at once. They began making a low purring noise that sounded to Zack remarkably like on of his cats at home. A few snarled and bared their sharp teeth, yet most made that low croaking purr.

"Bring it!" he finally yelled, calling them out as he pumped another round into his shotgun. "Let's see how many of you bastards I can take to hell with me!"

The battle cry seemed to excite them, and they attacked. He saw movement in the corner of his eye and turned, firing into the gut of one of the creatures. Another leapt at him from the air. He ducked under it and turned, swinging the butt of his gun into the chin of another.

The group swarmed around him. Zack thought back at the times he had been in situations like these. One time had been in a mosh pit at a Slayer concert. That had been the biggest pit he had been in, and all he remembered from it was the stence of sweat and blood in the air and the bodies that seemed to be comnig from everywhere at once. LEtting his mind go back to that day, Zack did what came naturally for him: he went into a frenzy. He moshed.

The whole fight only lasted about thirty seconds, yet to Zack, it seemed like almost half an hour. Time seemed to slow to a crawl and he noticed everything that happened. The air was filled with snarls and cries of pain. A claw found its way to his arm, slicing deep groves into his bicep. He winced in pain and returned the favor to the creature, obliterating its face. Another set of claws went deeper into his back. He fell to the ground, rolled quickly, and saw another claw dig into the moist earth where his head had just lain. The shotgun kicked in his hands as the creature was thrown backwards from the force of the blow. He got back up quickly, firing into the eyes of another as he did so. Another creature leapt on his back, digging its sharp teeth into his shoulder. Somehow he found the strength to flip it over and shoot it in the chest.

Blood poured from him everywhere. He coughed deeply, and he felt the blood come up, thick like phlegm. That meant the blood had someone got in his lungs, and Zack didn't have to be a doctor to know the wasn't good. Nor did he have to be a psychic to know he couldn't keep it up much longer. He just had to stay alive to see the rest of the demons out, and there were only two left. If he could take them out…

His vision doubled, turning the two creatures into four. One of the creatures (along with its doppelganger) leapt into the air. He plugged both of them with a round to the face, destroying the top half of its skull. The other stood staring at him, and Zack stared back.

He couldn't stand anymore. His legs gave out on him and he fell to one knee. Sensing his weakness, the remaining demon charged at him. He realized he would need to reload to kill this last one, but he also realized he didn't have the time. He raised the gun into the air and shoved it into the face of the charging creature. He smiled (a smile full of blood) as the creature howled in pain. Dropping the shotgun, he pulled out his handgun and let off a volley of shots into the creatures face. It howled with pain as each bullet hit it. Finally, it fell to the ground, shaking with its death spasm. Still he unloaded the rest of his clip into its skull, turning it into mush.

With the last one dead, Zack fell exhausted to the ground. Laying on his back he stared at the night sky. Blood poured around him, staining his clothes. He smiled sweetly.

He didn't even know what had compelled him to do something like this. In the last moments of his life he thought about it. There had been no thought behind it, he had only acted. He did what had come naturally, and he didn't regret a thing.

He thought of his brother, and smiled again. _Josh, _he said in his mind, speaking to the moon. The moon's pale surface had somehow turned to the smiling face of hsi brother. Green eeys and blond hair included. _You better survive. You'd better not die. _He closed his eyes and let himself drift off into whatever lay beyond death for him.


	11. The Newcomer

**Chapter Eleven— The Newcomer**

"Let's see how many of you bastards I can take to hell with me!" Those were the last words of Josh's brother. It was his final act, his outro, his final performance. Josh heard his brother give this valiant war cry from on the other side of the metal door. The boundary between him and his brother distorted the words, but he could hear them all too well. Thinking about all of this, he began to cry.

He pounded on the metal door, sobbing as he did so. "No, no, no, no, no!" he yelled hysterically. He wanted nothing more than to tear this door down, kill every Goddamned creature out there (with his bare hands if he had to), and save his brother.

The others stood behind him, watching him with curious and saddened eyes. If Josh were to turn around, he would see that he wasn't the only one crying. Drew and Terry were silently shedding their tears, and even Michael's eyes were starting to water up.

He fell to his knees, giving up on the door. He knew it was too late. It was too late for him to save his brother, too late to even say a goodbye. This realization that his brother was now gone forever brought on more tears. They were hot tears that stung his eyes. He collapsed, sobbing into the floor.

_It's not fair! _Josh thought. _It's not fair! I was supposed to die to protect the others. I was supposed to make the sacrifice! Why can he just choose to die like that! He had never done anything wrong!_

His heaving chest started to calm down, but the tears didn't seem to stop. It was like a dam had busted in his eyes, letting loose waterfalls of the salty liquid. He collapsed completely, lying on the dirty kitchen linoleum. His sobs slowed down to a ragged breathing, yet he just lay there.

"Josh?" Drew asked, his voice far away and distant.

_Never again, _Josh thought. _Never again will I see his smiling face. Never again will I hear his dumb jokes. I will never write music with him again, nor will I stand on stage with him. I won't even be able to fucking fight him anymore!_ There were so many things he would never do with his brother again, and the recognition of this fact hit Josh like a freight train.

"Josh!" Drew said, his voice much louder this time.

Slowly, Josh stood back up. Never had it taken him so much effort to stand like that. It took all of his willpower to force himself up because most of his mind wanted to just lay down and die, die so he could reunite with Zack. He turned, looking at Drew, but saying nothing. Drew said nothing either; they just continued to stare at each other. Finally, it was Josh who broke the silence.

"He's gone."

"Yeah, yeah he is," Drew said, tears welling up in his eyes again. "But we're not, and you have to realize that. We have to keep going. We have to live for Zack's sake."

Josh nodded. As he did, he realized the tears had stopped. He wasn't sure how, but they had stopped. It was like someone had just turned off the faucet. His eyes still stung, and he rubbed them. Drew and Josh stared at each other again, but it was Michael who broke their silence.

"Do you think there is anyone else alive here?" the boy asked, looking around thoughtfully.

"We can hope," Drew said, smiling.

Josh looked at the smile and wondered how someone could smile like that after his brother had died. Josh actually hated Drew for that smile. The idea was absurd; that he could hate his best friend, but now, he did. He hated Drew for smiling, he hated him for not caring as much as he did about Zack's death, but most of all, he hated the bassist because Drew's brother was still alive.

How was that fair?

xXxXx

Christie awoke to the sounds of someone yelling. She couldn't completely understand the person, but it sounded like he/she was yelling "no!" over and over again.

She sat up, and her head connected with something above her, sending bright flashes across her vision. She silently swore as she rubbed her aching head. She had forgotten where she was for a moment.

She was in a pantry, one of many in the large kitchen. She had found it when those things had started attacking the hotel. The bottom of it had been a little dirty, but it had had just enough room for her to sit in the bottom. She hadn't even thought twice; she had crouched into the pantry and had shut the door safely behind her.

She had no idea how long she had sat there, tearstained face pressed against her knees, muffling her crying. In the darkness, she listened to the screams of those still in the hotel being slaughtered ruthlessly, and she waited. She waited for one of the cannibals to begin searching for the people hiding. She heard shuffling footsteps pass the pantry and through the small crack of light beneath the door she saw their feet. She saw the blood that dripped from them. She saw each and every drop hit the ground, and she remembered staring at it, wondering whom it belonged to.

_Stop it! _she nagged herself. _It does no good to think like that._

Christie moved up to the door this time and pressed her face up at the crack at the bottom. She peered through the crack, trying to see if what she thought she was hearing was really there. The yelling had stopped, and now she had to wonder if she had been hearing the yelling in her dreams or if had been real. She couldn't see anything in the area of the pantry, but the pantry was all the way at the back of the kitchen. If there were people in there, they would more likely be up at the front, where she couldn't see them.

She paused, listening again. She couldn't hear anything.

_You were just imaging things, _her mind chastised her. _No one is out there. There couldn't be anyone, unless they're those cannibals._

At the thought of those blood-covered people, Christie slid away from the crack and towards the back of the pantry.

_What if they're not the cannibals though? _she thought. _What if they're normal people? People that can help?_

This thought brought her back to the crack of the pantry. She pressed her ear against the door. She held her breath, listening very carefully. At first she heard nothing, then there was low talking.

She almost laughed happily, but as soon as even a chuckle came out, she pressed her hands to her mouth, hushing herself. The people out there could be the cannibals. Though they had only made moaning noises before, that didn't mean they were totally devoid of speech. This talk could only be a ruse to get her to leave the safety of her pantry.

_Can't trick me so easily,_ she thought, scooting back from the crack.

She sat there listening and thinking. Moments later she was moving back towards the pantry door. _They could be cannibals, or they could not be. The only way to know for sure is to open the door a little and peek out. Besides, how long are you going to stay in this pantry, forever? You know you can't do that, so you might as well find out who those people are._

She nodded to herself and began pushing the door lightly. She did it quickly so she couldn't let herself talk herself out of it. Courage didn't always last long. She knew this.

Thankfully, the door didn't creak at all. She opened it slowly, not taking it inch by inch, more like centimeter by centimeter. Eventually, it was open wide enough for her to stick her head out. She peered cautiously around the door but didn't see anyone.

She stopped and looked at her comfortable surroundings. She had been in the kitchen enough to know the general layout. The kitchen was shaped straight and wide. In the middle of the floor was the countertop. It stretched from one side of the kitchen to the other, splitting it into two halves. There were intervals in the countertops space that allowed one to travel from one side to the other with little hassle. This was where the cooks worked so laboriously on the hotels fine dishes. Christie peered down the side of the kitchen she was on, seeing no one.

She moved quickly and quietly. Still crouching she stumbled her way towards one of those intervals. She reached it quickly and placed her back against it so she would be completely hidden from view no matter what side the others were on. She sat there for a second, catching her breath and debating as to when she should peak around. She decided she would never know the best time to look, so now was as good as never.

She took a deep breath and peeked around the corner. She saw them.

She recognized two of them almost instantly. They had come in earlier, and she had found it nearly impossible to forget their faces all day. They had ordered their food and torn into it like animals. She had never gotten their names, but she had no trouble recognizing them. The others she had never seen before. There was a man dressed in a security guard's uniform who looked like he was severely hurt. The other man was dressed in a plain work shirt and jeans. His hair was dark black. She gasped in horror when she saw these men and quickly hid from their sight.

_They're covered in blood!_ she thought. _Nearly from head to toe! Just like the cannibals._ Now she wanted nothing more than to run back to her pantry and hide. It didn't matter how long she'd be there, she just didn't want to be out here with those cannibals.

_Wait,_ her reason told her. _You recognize two of them. They had come here earlier. They seemed like nice guys._

_They could have just been scouting the place out for the rest of their buddies, _she argued back.

_That's insane._

She sighed again and decided one more peek couldn't hurt. She peered around the corner and saw another person she had missed.

It was a young boy who appeared to just be in his teens. She stood next to the black haired man and it was easy for her to see he was the boy's father. They had the same face and hair.

_Now would cannibals keep children around like that?_ her reason asked. _Children aren't cannibals._

She decided that was true. When the hotel had been attacked she hadn't seen a single child kill anyone. The idea itself was just lunacy. This wasn't Children of the Corn, after all.

_Go talk to them then, _she thought. _They might have come to help._

She looked down into her right hand. In it, she held a once-shiny meat cleaver that had been stained red with blood. She had no idea why she was still holding onto it, but she didn't care. It would serve nicely in defending herself (it had, after all, defended her earlier. She might be trusting enough to go talk to them, but she wasn't stupid enough to greet them without something to protect herself.

She switched it to her left hand behind her back and stood up.

"Hello," she called out, tentatively. They turned to her, eyes filled with surprise, and almost every one on of them turned on her with their guns drawn. _Great job, _she thought sarcastically. _You didn't even think of them having guns, and now what's it gonna get you?_ Her fingers grew tighter on the cleaver's handle. She was no pushover, if they threatened her, she would hurl the cleaver at one of their faces.

Her mistrust proved to be false, for they all lowered their guns except the man with the black hair and the plain clothes.

"For Christ's sake, Steve," the brown-haired man said. "Put the gun down. She's not like them. Can't you see that?" He stuck his hand out politely towards her. "Name's Drew."

Christie moved closer, slowly, still keeping the cleaver behind her back. It never hurt to be safe. She calmly set out her right hand and they shook. "Christie."

The brown-haired man who had identified himself as Drew nodded towards the others. First, he gestured to the man who Drew had to yell at to put the gun down. "That is Steve. His son's name is Michael." Christie was surprised when the boy calmly stuck his hand out and shook her hand. "The security guard is Terry." Terry uttered a mumbling hello and a small wave before leaning back against the counter. She hadn't noticed it at first, but now that she was up much closer she saw how pale the man was. He looked as if he was deathly ill. Drew pointed to the last man, he wore a torn up sleeveless shirt and shorts. "That's Josh." Drew dropped his tone real low and spoke quietly to her. "We had another with us, Josh's brother, but he…he didn't make it."

She glanced over at Josh. "I'm sorry," she said to him.

He looked at her with red, tearstained eyes. "You don't have to be. I'm the one who should be sorry. It's my fault. Always my fault." His voice trailed off, and Christie couldn't help but wonder about the man's emotional stability.

She stood silent, contemplating what to say. She thought about it for a minute and said the first thing that came to mind. "You guys aren't like them then, are you?"

"No, we're not," Drew said. "We're normal."

The panic in her mind told her not to trust him, saying that was just what a cannibal would say, but she blocked it out easily. The things that gave her such confidence were the man's eyes. They were a deep brown and showed empathy in them. They were also a little red and tear-stained, but the most important thing was they weren't empty. Christie had looked right into the eyes of one of the cannibals had was horrified to see that it looked like he had no pupils. Their eyes were white and blank.

"Are there any others alive?" the little boy, Michael, asked with clear concern in his voice.

Christie only shook her head. "I don't know. I've been hiding in the pantry for the longest time. I have no idea if anyone is alive still."

"Maybe we should find out," Terry grunted.

xXxXx

Drew and Steve helped carry Terry, and he was grateful for that. He now realized how right Zack had been. He was infected; he knew that as easily as he knew his right hand from his left. It had started as nothing more than slight nausea, but now it had escalated quite a bit. His legs felt like they were made of rubber, his head pounded mercilessly, and the Goddamned itch just wouldn't quit! The itch was the worst. It was always there, a never-ending torment. It would get so bad so that he actually wanted to dig his fingernails deep into his skin and keep digging in an attempt to cease the itch. It wouldn't matter if he peeled of the flesh; he'd do anything to stop the itch. It was awful; it felt like there were millions of creatures crawling beneath his skin.

"Take me to one of the rooms," Terry said breathlessly. "I want to lie down."

"Anything you want, buddy," Drew said. Sweat was starting to trickle down the side of his face from the force he was using to keep Terry on his feet. Terry admired him for that.

They passed the fountain and moved towards the elevator. They didn't enter the elevator, but moved past it, heading to a hallway just behind them. Terry looked over at the elevator doors as they passed them. There was blood smeared all over the steel door in gigantic swoops. The sight of it— not to mention the smell— seemed to call to Terry, invoking some deep demon with him. The sight of the gore enticed him, making him hungrier than he had ever been before. As soon as this realization sunk in, he snapped himself back to his own world, appalled at what he had been thinking.

_Was I really thinking about that stuff as delicious? _Terry questioned. _Had I really thought about…about…_ He couldn't even think about it; it disgusted him so much. It was so revolting he felt like he was going to…

"Hold on," he said. "I'm going to vomit." Drew and Steve were helpful enough to take him over to the side wall where he deposited his stomach's containing onto the pleasant shade of green wallpaper. Already, he was starting to feel better. The bitter taste of his vomit had managed to erase any thoughts of eating, especially thoughts about that blood. He muttered thanks and they continued towards the room.

He looked up at the dark wooden door. There was a golden bar at eye-level, naming the room, ROOM 118. Drew reached for it and opened it for him.

Terry was thankful the room is still in good condition. From the looks of it, someone had been preparing to check into it. It had been cleaned out thoroughly. Terry hadn't seen the room the band had been staying in before, so he couldn't compare the two. If he had seen the other room he would have seen that this room was not as large or elegant, yet it had its own charm. The primary of those being that it was clean.

There were two single beds, both dressed in soft looking cream covers. They were tucked in so neatly that he thought someone could bounce a quarter off them. The room had been dusted as well, leaving nearly everything with a clean shine. Though it was only a hotel room, Terry thought it was as close to Heaven as he'd ever seen.

They moved him over to the closest bed and placed him upon its soft mattress.

"Thanks," Terry muttered, already closing his eyes.

"Just take it easy," Drew said. He reached over and grabbed Terry's guns from him. He set the handgun on the nightstand next to him and placed the shotgun over on the dresser just opposite of Terry's bed. "I'm just gonna set these here so you don't shoot yourself in your sleep."

Terry nodded dreamily, but he wasn't really paying attention. Even with the pain and the itch (it never stopped!) he found himself slipping farther and farther into slumber.

xXxXx

Drew turned off the lights and shut the door quietly behind him, leaving Terry to his well-deserved rest. "Rest easy, pal," Drew said quietly to the door behind him. "Get better." Drew had no idea what was wrong with the security guard— he hadn't seen what Zack had seen– yet he couldn't help but wonder where Terry's sudden ailment had come from. His mind turned to the thought of the security guard turning into a zombie. After all, wasn't that what was shown in the movies. However, he turned the thoughts away as soon as they came. Terry wouldn't change into a zombie. That was only in the movies, only in Hollywood.

_Yeah, and that's what you thought about zombies too, _he thought bitterly.

"How's your friend doing?" a voice asked. Drew turned to see the young boy Michael standing there. He was talking to Drew, yet he kept his eyes fixed on the door. He saw that the boy's eyes were filled with sympathy and concern.

"He's just a little under the weather," Drew replied. "Give him an hour or two of rest and he'll be right as rain, ready to kick some zombie ass."

The remarks seemed to cheer the boy up a little, for he gave Drew a small smile. "That's good to hear."

Drew returned the young boy's smile before heading back to the lobby. The rest of the group sat on the plush sofas set out in the lobby's main area. Steve sat in one of the chairs flipping idly through the large TV's channels. Everything he found was just static. Christie sat on a different sofa, looking at nothing particular. Michael moved up and sat on the same couch as his father. Drew opted for the last remaining piece of furniture. Sitting down on it, he laid his whole frame out on the comfortable sofa. So the group rested here, all of them except for one.

"Where's Josh?" Drew asked, worry crossing his features. He sat back up and looked around.

Steve only shrugged. "He said he wanted to be alone right now.

Drew shot the man an angered look. "Why did you let him do that? We don't have any idea what's in here. There could be more of those zombies, or maybe even more of those clawed freaks that chased us here."

The thought of the reptilian creatures brought on thoughts of Zack. Though Drew wasn't wearing his emotions out on his sleeve like Josh, he was still very much hurt by the loss of the singer. Zack Hunter had been one of the few great guys Drew had ever met. He always managed to stay happy, and when someone was feeling down, the signer would never hesitate to try and cheer him or her up. He was a great guy that many found it impossible to hate. A guy like that didn't deserve to get torn apart by demons like those.

Steve gave a quick sneer. "The guy can take care of himself."

Drew found himself in a position Josh had been in earlier. Right now, with this man's snide comments and negative attitude, Drew wanted to break the guy's nose, but he managed to hold that in.

"Well, did you at least see where he went?"

Steve offered another shrug. "Beats me."

Drew sighed, leaning back in the chair with his arms crossed. _You're a lot of help, _he thought bitterly. The group sat there in silence. Finally, it was Michael who broke the tension.

"Can you tell us what happened here at the hotel, Christie," the boy asked, turning to the newcomer to the group.

"Umm, there really isn't much to tell— you guys seemed to have experienced much more than me— but I'll tell you everything I know." She paused, trying to collect her thoughts. "Well, it was just around ten o'clock. Things were pretty much going as planned. The restaurant was getting closing down like we normally do on days like these. I was in the kitchen washing dishes. Normally I don't have to do that, but since so many people have been sick lately, I had to fill in. There were only four of us left— Burt the chef, a busboy named Chad, and another waiter named Travis."

"Things were going alright until we heard a scream coming from the front lobby. Fearing the worse, all of us still working ran out to see what was going on. Luckily for us, I had kept the meat cleaver that I had been washing at that time."

"We got to the lobby, but we couldn't see a sign of the screamer anywhere."

"'That sounded like Andrea, didn't it?' Chad had asked, and I had nodded. Andrea was the desk manager. She had been working the desk, checking people in and out. The only problem was, we couldn't see her anywhere."

"I walked up to the front desk, hoping this was all some sort of joke on us. You know? Like she'd pop out from some sort of closet and laugh and say 'Got you!' But she never did."

"I kept calling her name out, but she wouldn't answer. I walked all the way up to the front desk. The closer I got, the more I noticed these strange noises. I could hear someone slurping on the other side of the desk. It kind of reminded me of a young boy slurping up a long string of pasta. Then there were some gnashing noises that followed the slurps. I got all the way to the desk, but I still couldn't see the other side. However, the noises were definitely louder and I could tell they were coming from the other side."

Christie paused in her story. "I guess you guys can figure out what I found on the other side, and you'd know nearly as soon as you heard the noises." Drew nodded grimly, but he didn't say anything. "I had no idea, so I was terrified. I didn't know what to expect on the other side. But I had a fairly good idea that whatever it was wasn't anything good."

"Eventually, I got the nerve to look over the desk. It was horrible. Andrea was lying on the floor, blood starting to puddle around her, and crouched over her was this man. Well, I guess he isn't really a man."

"That's right," Steve interjected. "They're zombies."

Christie nodded her head. "Zombies. Yeah, that does make more sense than just regular cannibals. Anyways, this…zombie was crouched over Andrea's dead form, pulling her intestines out of her stomach." At the mention of this horrible feat, Christie's face suddenly got much paler, and Drew wouldn't have been surprised if she apologized and went away to throw up. Hell, that's what he expected, but the girl surprised him by continuing her story.

"The guy would just stuff them in his mouth by the handfuls, and I kept thinking she had to be running out of guts sooner than later. She didn't though. It was like one of those magic tricks were the magician just keeps pulling strands and strands of multicolored silk from his sleeve, except this wasn't silk."

"For awhile I just stood there. I didn't even scream or anything; I just stood there. Finally, Burt came up to see what was going on. He didn't scream either, but he let loose an agonizingly slow moan that croaked in his throat. That seemed to get the attention of the guy…I mean zombie. He stood back up and turned to us, blood dribbling from his mouth and down his chin. That's when I saw the eyes."

"They were pale and empty, completely devoid of any emotion or feeling. That was what seemed to freak me out more than the blood and the fact that Andrea was dead. It was those damn eyes."

Drew nodded. He could relate to her tale easily. The eyes still managed to creep him out even after he had been exposed to so many of them in a manner of hours. Each time he saw them he tried to picture some sort of emotion— fear, pain, anger, sadness, anything— but he always came up short. The fact of the matter was, the zombies were completely empty themselves. It wasn't like a half-filled glass of water were one could imagine it being half-full or half-empty. There was only empty.

"What happened then?" Steve asked interestedly.

"The guy lunged for Burt. I was too stunned to do anything, but I was right there. I was right next to them. I was close enough to smell the guy. It was a horrid scent. The closest that I've experienced was a dead deer I found on the side of the road when I was a kid. I didn't realize how I hadn't smelled it before because after I caught the scent, it seemed to hang around me. Even now I can still get a whiff of it on my clothes."

"The guy sunk his teeth right into Burt's neck, and blood sprayed out in thick streams." She pointed to her face, which was clean now. "A lot of it landed right on me, right here. It was hot and sticky. That was what snapped me out of my trance. I realized I still had the cleaver in my hand, and I used it. I don't even remember swinging it. All I know was one minute I'm holding it my hand, thinking about the blood on my face, and the next I'm pulling the cleaver out of the man's skull. I just…lost control, I guess."

"Understandable," Drew said. "You did what was right. Your friend needed your help so you helped him. No reason to feel sorry for that."

Christie offered a weak smile, and Drew realized that some of her color was returning. It seemed that telling this story was making her feel better, and Drew knew it was true. It never did bode well to let things stay bottled up inside. All it would do was grow and destroy from the inside like a cancer, and the best cure for this cancer was simply sharing the experience with someone else.

"I guess you're right," she said, nodding along. "Anyways, the guy died, but Burt was getting worse and worse. I knew it wouldn't take long for him to die. The jugular vein had been cut wide open, and I knew that was fatal. And I was right, he didn't live long after. He lived just enough for the other two guys, Chad and Travis, to come over and try to help before his chest stopped rising. Travis started freaking out, and Chad wasn't doing much better. I myself didn't feel normal, but I had the sense to go for the phone and call 911."

"Let me guess," Drew interjected. "No answer."

"Exactly," Christie nodded. "Nothing but an answering machine. I got mad and threw the phone away. That was when I realized there were more coming."

"The automatic doors at the front slid open and all three of us turned in curiosity. A handful of people came in, but I knew they were like the guy I had just killed: that smell hung around them like a cloud of death, many had missing clumps of flesh, and most importantly, they had those white eyes."

"After this handful, more kept coming. Some were even coming from the back kitchen. Also, I hadn't realized at the time, but the scream that had attracted our attention had also attracted the attention of some of the guests. They had come downstairs to the lobby like cattle being drawn to the slaughter, and that's what took place, a slaughter."

"Some of the guests got attacked by these mysterious newcomers, or the zombies as you call them. After that, things kind of get fuzzy again. I remember one of the zombies getting too close to me, so I hacked into its neck with the cleaver, spraying more blood, and I remember running as fast as I could to the kitchen. That's when I hid in the pantry until you guys came. I have no idea how long I was in there because I blacked out awhile. You know, after all the screaming had stopped."

Drew could only shake his head. "That's awful. Everyone in the hotel?"

"I guess so," Christie said. "I don't know what happened to everyone else, but I'm sure someone must have survived long enough to turn the power off in an attempt to seal the creatures outside."

"Yeah," Steve grumbled. "We noticed that when we couldn't get through the doors when were being chased by the fucking lizard man."

"That's when you lost someone else in your group, right?"

"Yeah," Drew said sullenly. "Zack, Josh's brother. He was at the dinner with us. He was the one with the short hair and the goofy facial hair. Wore a combat jacket."

"I remember him," Christie said. "But what about the other guy, the one with the red hair?"

"He died at the show. One of the zombies got to him the same way they got your friend Burt."

"Oh," Christie said, her curiosity satisfied. The group sat there in awkward silence for a few minutes, until a loud scream pierced the air.

"NO!"

Drew sat up immediately, grabbing his gun from his belt as he did so. _Terry! _he thought. The voice certainly had sounded like the security guard's, and Drew could only hope that Terry was just experiencing a nightmare of sorts.

Without a word, he took off running towards Room 118, towards were he hoped Terry was. He didn't know it now, but when he would get there, Terry would be nowhere in sight.

* * *

_A/N: There you go. As always, I'm sorry for the longer wait. Even with summer here I still find myself busy. Adda little bit of writer's block to it and you have yourself a potent mix.Other than that, not much to say here except the thank you's that go out to all my reviewers. In truth, I'm not sure what the fate of this fic would be without you people. I'm sure I'd still be writing it, but it just wouldn't be the same. Your words are what keeps me fueled, so don't forget to tell me what you think. As for the next chapter, expect it to be popping up in the next week or two. I already have most of it typed out, but I still need to do some redrafting. I'm going to try to go back to a deadline, because it seems to me the chapters end up turning out better if I don't rush them. That said, I'll see you guys around in the next installment._


	12. Possessed

**Chapter Twelve— Possessed**

_The world was spinning, and he was far above the ground, flying through the air. It did not take him long to realize where he was at. He was above Raccoon City. Some of the buildings he did not recognize, but it was hard to misplace the living dead that crowded the streets._

_He looked down and saw an army of soldiers marching. They were moving south, towards the zombie filled streets. Terry watched with interest as they opened fire. The zombies moved forward, acting as if they did not even feel the bullets. Terry watched with horror and amazement as the zombies marched up to the soldiers. No matter what the army did, not one zombie would fall. Even the ones who had their heads blown off still staggered forward. A quick thinking soldier threw a hand grenade into the midst of the undead, scattering them in a vicious explosion. Terry watched with horror as each and every bits and pieces of the blown apart zombies continued to move on their own freewill. Hands, legs, and other body appendages continued to crawl forward. _

_He watched far above the battlefield as the zombies reached the soldiers. The zombies did not tear into the soldiers as he had been expecting. Instead, they calmly placed their hands on the shoulders of the men in combat fatigues and just stood there. He watched with horror as the soldiers' faces began to rot. Skin and patches of hair fell off in clumps, and Terry was close enough to see their eyes change from the lively shades of brown, green, and blue to the dull blankness of white. It was as if the creature's touch was all it took to corrupt the soul and body of a man._

_The infection spread. The front line turned into the creatures, and so did the next line, and the next. He watched the infection spread through them like a wave. It reminded him of the ripples created from a tiny pebble being cast into a pool of water. One stone was all it took to disrupt the water's peaceful surface._

_The very last of the soldiers changed. There was a brief moment of silence before each and every zombie on the street (including the newly obtained recruits) reared back their heads and moaned. It was like they were one being, a giant entity devoted to destruction and chaos. The hollow, soulless tone carried into the night air and rang loudly. Terry had to cover his ears because the noise was so loud._

_Then he was carried away again._

_When he stopped this time, he was right outside the hotel. He looked down to see a familiar scenario. It was him and the others fighting for their very lives against the clawed demons. They were outside the hotel. They were running for the open kitchen door. When they reached it, Terry slammed the door shut behind him, leaving Zack trapped outside. The singer pounded on the door, sobbing and begging to be let in, yet no one opened the door. He had been abandoned._

_One of the demons leapt onto him then, pulling him to the ground. Terry closed his eyes as the rest of the pack descended upon him, pulling him apart limb from limb. Though his eyes were closed, he could still hear the gnashing of teeth and claws, the ripping of flesh being torn from bone, and the screams of his dying friend._

_"No!" Terry screamed. "That's not what happened! We didn't abandon him!"_

_No one listened. There was only him and the creatures below._

_Suddenly, the noises stopped. Confused, Terry opened his eyes. He was now inside the hotel. He looked around and realized he was in one of the hallways. He walked forward, for there was nothing else he could do. As he moved, he tried opening the doors on the side, but they were all locked. Every single one of them._

_He got to the end of the hallway and turned the corner, coming face to face with his own self. Standing in the middle of the hallway was a clone of himself— how could it not be, the resemblance was uncanny. It looked just like him, except for one key difference, this Terry was a zombie. His clothes were torn and tattered, and they hung loosely on his giant frame. The scratch marks on his chest had begun bleeding again, and the crimson fluid flowed down from his chest to his shoes._

_"No," Terry said, moaning deep in his throat. "You can't be here. You don't exist."_

_The apparition just smiled as if saying, "I can, and I do." Terry wondered why it was smiling. What was it (he) so happy about? It began shuffling forward, and Terry saw that behind it there was only blackness. As it moved forward, the hallway behind it began to peel away, changing into complete darkness._

_Terry raised his handgun and pointed it at the approaching figure. He fired a shot directly into the thing's (his own) head. Its head snapped back from whiplash, yet it kept moving forward. It brought its head back up, still smiling. There was a bullet hole in the creature's head, right between the eyes. Blood poured from the wound like tears from an eye; it poured down the middle of his face right down to his chin._

_Terry uttered another horror filled moan from deep within his throat. "No, you're dead. You're supposed to stay dead when I shoot you in the head."_

_The undead version of him said nothing; it only smiled back in that same lunatic way. It moved right up to him, stopping when its face was only inches from his own. Terry saw behind it, and he looked over his own shoulder as well. There was only darkness there. The hotel hallway had disappeared. He and his doppelganger were stuck together in a sea of darkness._

_"Why won't you die?" Terry asked the apparition._

_The creature kept smiling. It inched its head forward till its mouth was next to Terry's ear. "Because I'm you," the thing whispered, and although Terry could not see it, he knew it was smiling. It was always fucking smiling. "I am what you will be. There's no denying that." It (Terry) uttered a short chuckle before sinking its (his) teeth into Terry's neck._

_He cried in pain as the shadows enveloped him, shrouding his vision with infinite black._

xXxXx

He woke up in a cold sweat. In his sleep, he had kicked the cover from his bed and they lay strewn about in a pile at the foot of his bed. He had no idea how long he had been out, but it did not matter. Right now, he just wanted to get out of this bed.

_What was I dreaming about? _Terry thought. He could not remember, but he knew it was enough to scare the piss out of him. He had not had a nightmare in God-only-knew how long. _Just shows what living in this hellhole can do to you._

Tentatively, he swung his feet off the side of the bed. So far so good. He gently set his feet on the ground and stood up. There was a jolt of pain that shot up from his chest and ended in his head, but he was not deterred. He could not stand to lie in that bed for any longer. Besides, he was starting to feel a little better, and he could handle just walking outside to see what was going on.

Before leaving, he grabbed his handgun from the nightstand. He left the shotgun where it was. Hopefully, he would not need it anyway. He walked slowly towards the door on stiff legs. When he got to the door, he had enough time to think that it might not have been such a good idea to get out of bed before he opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

He moved slowly down the hall, using the wall to keep himself propped up. His vision started to double, and Terry realized that it was _definitely_ a bad idea to leave the bed. He was in no condition to be going anywhere. He meant to turn around, but the world was starting to pivot on its own axis, and Terry went along for the ride.

He collapsed to the ground, trying to center himself. He lay there on the floor, on all fours for what seemed like an eternity (even though it was only a matter of minutes). Finally, the world slowed itself down, and Terry could stand back up. When he did so, he saw that he had just about reached the elevator. Suddenly, he remembered the blood on it, and his stomach filled with nausea, yet it also began to rumble at the thought of the crimson liquid. This strange paradox made him wonder how such a feeling was even possible and if he was just imaging it from his delirium. Either way, it brought him closer to the elevator. Slowly and methodically, he plodded his way towards the elevator. The closer he got, the hungrier he got, the sicker he got.

With his stomach growling, his mind began to drift. He thought about the picnics he and his family used to have. He would have his arms around Mary's shoulders, smiling happily and watching John and Jacob wrestling in the soft, fresh grass. Those had been the times. He could still smell the sweet scent of the place. It was an Eden of sorts in his mind. He thought of the delicious pie— never the same flavor— Mary would always bring. He always had loved guessing the flavor, and he had never been right. Though, each one had been just as delicious as the first— maybe even more so. He thought of how they would stay there until the sunset, watching its majestic beauty as a family.

His mind snapped itself back to reality, and before he knew it, he was standing in front of the elevator doors, staring at the blood with wicked fascination. The thoughts had returned, much more potent this time around, and before he knew it, he was reaching out towards the blood without even realizing it. He stopped himself by punching the UP arrow on the side. With a ring, the doors slid open, hiding the blood from his sight. He breathed a sigh of relief, but he also grunted with dissatisfaction.

Never had Terry felt so disjointed from himself. He was divided into two— one side being the Terry still appalled at the thought of blood and the other, more vile side of Terry that relished in its gore. Every time he managed to pull himself away from the more depraved side, his mind cheered _and _jeered. It was not much unlike the shows he had seen before where a devil appeared on one shoulder of a character and an angel on the other. The only difference being, he was not seeing demons nor angels. There was only Terry and Terry.

He stepped into the elevator, sighing with relief (hissing with frustration) that the blood would no longer be there to torment him. He pressed the second floor button and felt the elevator shift as it began its ascension. He leaned against the side of the elevator, closing his eyes in an attempt to clear his thoughts.

It did not work.

_Soon, Terry, _a voice whispered. _You know its coming. You can't stop yourself from changing. You know that._

"Yeah," Terry whispered aloud. "But I can at least separate myself from the others."

_Do you really think that will do any good? They'll look for you, and they'll find you. This hotel isn't that big. And what do you think they're going to find when they come across poor infected Terry?_ The voice uttered a hollow laugh, and Terry was starting to get fearful. He had realized he had been arguing with his own conscience, yet he hadn't been expecting that laugh. It was like it was another person inside his own head. He thought about the two Terry's he had thought of earlier, and he wondered if the virus had affected him mentally, turning him schizophrenic.

_Nope, _that voice whispered. _You're not crazy. This is just the way you are, or maybe the way you're going to be. You know it. You know what you're going to be, so why do you fight it?_

"Just shut up," Terry muttered quietly. "I don't wan to listen to you anymore. Just shut up."

Miraculously, the voice did, but Terry knew that wasn't the end of it.

The doors slid open, and he stepped out. He took a couple glances left and right. Seeing nothing of immediate interest, he walked back into the elevator, making sure to not let the door close to reveal the blood. He repeated this process for the third floor. When the door opened, he looked left and saw a lone zombie shuffling its way towards him. He took the time to aim (it took much longer than it normally should have) and reduced the walking cadaver back to the way it should be, nice and dead. The gunshot rang loud in his head. It felt like his head was going to explode. He brought his hands back up to his head, pressing against the sides in an attempt to control this explosion. After a few seconds, his head stopped throbbing, and he realized the worst was over. Calmly, he randomly pressed a button taking him to the fifth floor.

As the elevator rose, Terry fell. Another wave of nausea hit him with all the force of a speeding truck. He fell to his knees, sure that he would throw up again, yet he managed to hold it down. As the room rose it seemed to spin, seeming to hurl Terry through the air. He felt like he was on one of those carnival rides, except, he knew it was just a normal hotel elevator.

_Why did I do this? _Terry questioned. _I should have just stayed in that damn bed._

Then, as fast as it had started, it stopped.

The elevator slowed down, as did his breathing. He swallowed hard, barely believing what had just happened. _What's wrong with me? _he thought. _Is this it? Is this what it's like when you change? God, I just want it to be over._

The elevator doors slid open, and that was when Terry lost it.

The metal door slid open, revealing the corpse of a maid slain at his feet. She was slim and young, probably working her way through college. Her hair was a dark, chestnut brown and it was matted together by blood. Terry saw none of these little details. In truth, he didn't even see the person before him. All he saw was the blood. There was so much of it! He saw how her throat had been torn open, and he saw the deep gashes in her uniform.

Suddenly, Terry's head ached and throbbed violently. The wave of nausea returned, as did his insane appetite. His legs felt like jell-o, yet he managed to stand.

_EAT IT! _that sinister voice bellowed, returning to the forefront of his mind. The voice scared Terry. It terrified him for one sole reason: he recognized it now. After all, how could he not recognize his own voice?

"No…" he muttered slowly, shaking his head side-to-side. He spoke out loud because he had to. The chant in his head (_EAT IT! EAT IT! EAT IT!) _was growing so loud his mind could not focus on anything else.

No, that was a lie. There was something else. He pictured himself wiping his hands in the pool of blood and licking them clean. Countless more grotesque pictures like this. They came with clean, sick detail, yet he didn't push them away. In fact he embraced them, letting his mind weave over every aspect. He enjoyed them, God help him, he enjoyed them.

"No! It's…not…not right." He was muttering slowly to himself, rambling almost incoherently "Not…No!" He brought his hands up to his face, trying to block out the picture of the slain maid, but it did not help. Though he could not see the blood, he could still smell it. It was sweet and inviting, almost like the scent of a kitchen that had been baking all sorts of goods.

It was this invitation that brought him to the body. Terry could no longer deny the powerful command to (_EAT IT!_) feast on this girl's flesh. He was too weak and powerless. The voice in his head was gone, but its presence was still felt. Terry could feel it waiting on the edge, watching him with growing interest. He was sure the voice was smiling (if it had a mouth, that was), smiling at his weakness.

Terry walked slowly, shambling almost. He saw himself walking like the zombies he had fought so much today as if he was another person. It was what most people referred to as an _outer body experience. _He saw himself reach towards the young woman's open throat. He saw his hand glide slowly, reaching, stretching, trying to feel the warmth of blood. He saw himself touch the crimson liquid, but he felt it too. It was this sight accompanied by the sense of touch that snapped Terry out of his trance.

"NO!" he screamed violently, throwing himself backwards. His back slammed hard against the tempered glass of the elevator. It did not break, nor did it crack. He fell to the floor, slumped against the glass wall. That last resistance, while valiant, had cost him dearly. He was now completely exhausted. He could not resist the voice anymore; it was impossible to resist its demonic call (_EAT IT!_).

Luckily, the elevator doors shut then, blocking his access to the very thing that had pushed him over the edge. This block finally silenced the evil influence that had clouded his thoughts like a thick, night fog. For the last few minutes of Terry's life, he was himself.

This rediscovered sense of oneself allowed him to realize what was happening. _I'm dying,_ he thought slowly to himself.

Yes, he was dying, but he would be back. His shell would still haunt the earth, seeking flesh. That was what had happened to the man he had sat next to at the bar, and that was what was happening to him. The man had died from some disease (the zombie plague, or whatever you want to call it), but while the disease killed him, it also reanimated him. That was what was happening to the city and him. That is why everyone in Raccoon City was dead, yet undead at the same time.

That was all there was to it. In a matter of minutes, Terry himself would be one of the living dead. There was no way to stop it. No way, except for one.

He looked down to the handgun that lay next to him. When you shot a zombie in the head, it stayed dead. That was the one and simple truth of Raccoon City. Slowly, his hand moved towards the gun. If the dead body had called to Terry, this gun was _attracting _him. It was like his hand was a magnet and there was no possible force that could stop the pull.

_If I have to die, this is the way. I don't want anyone else's blood on my hands._

His hand reached the weapon and his fingers curled around the trigger. At once, he felt at ease, finally at peace. It was like the gun was the soft blanket he would cuddle as a child. _Don't worry, Terry, _it called out to him. _I'll make sure nothing bad happens. I'll protect you. _

He brought the gun slowly up to his head. Yes, he would die, but he wouldn't be one of them. He would be himself. He would be Terry Wakefield.

He felt cool steel touch his temple. It was now or never. Smiling, Terry pulled the trigger.

_Click!_

There was no deafening report that would silence Terry and his thoughts. There was only the damn click of an empty clip. Disgusted, he threw the gun away, letting it bounce off the steel door of the elevator.

He had another clip in his pocket, but it would do him no good. He was far too weak to reload the gun. He probably wouldn't even be able to pull the hammer back.

Everything was slowly growing dark. Terry took one last glance over his shoulder, looking down at the lobby.

He saw the others down there, apparently looking for him. Yes, they were. He could hear them calling his name. Terry smiled to himself. Everything would work out. He would turn, yes, but the others would put him down. He smiled as his eyes closed for the last time (though they would open later, but they wouldn't be his eyes; they would be the eyes of an empty soul), knowing that the others would handle things from here.

Yes, his friends could take care of themselves. They didn't need Terry.

xXxXx

As far as Drew was concerned, this was true fear. People did have phobias— with everything ranging from water to mole rats— yet they were nothing compared to what Drew was experiencing. He was even more afraid now then he had been when being attacked by what Steve called, "the lizard-men." All of this fear stemmed from one simple fact: Terry was missing.

The group reached Terry's room in no time flat. The door had been left wide open, and Terry's bed was empty. Well, not completely empty. There was still plenty of blood left in it. It had soaked right through the sheets and the blankets— both of which had been tossed unceremoniously to the floor.

Other than the blood and the sheets, there was nothing else wrong with the room. It was still as neat as before, and it was this fact that worried Drew the most. There were no signs of struggle. It looked like Terry had just got up and walked off on his own accord.

"Where could he have gone?" Christie asked from behind Drew.

Drew could only shake his head stupidly. "I have no idea."

"Look here," Michael said, pointing to the ground. Drew followed his pointing finger to a spot on the floor, a red spot.

"Is that blood?" Drew asked, moving next to the teenager.

"Sure does look like it."

Drew looked at the spot of blood. There was not much of it, but it was enough. He looked around and spotted exactly what he was looking for, another spot of blood. This spot was right outside the door of the room. _Now, we got something, _Drew thought as he moved towards the spot. When he got there, he scanned the ground for another. Sure enough, three feet down from where he stood was another tiny splatter of blood. Terry was leaving a trail of breadcrumbs, and he didn't even know it.

"Terry!" Drew yelled again, cupping his hands around his mouth in an attempt of amplifying his voice. It worked. He could hear his own voice echo throughout the empty hotel, but his voice came back alone. No Terry.

He did not call again; it was useless to. He just had to follow the blood trail and hope to God Terry was still all right.

The trail of blood led to the elevator. The final drop was right outside the steel, blood covered doors, but he didn't know if the blood had come from Terry or from the mysterious donor whose blood now painted the elevator. He looked anxiously around, but saw no other clues. This had to be it, it just had to be.

Slowly, he reached out towards the call button. His fingers stopped right before touching the button. Was Terry inside the elevator? Was there something else in there with him?

_Something_. There was a word Drew wasn't particularly found of. In this night, he had seen two of his friends die, been attacked by zombies, and even attacked by lizard-people. Something could mean anything, and he did not like that.

He withdrew his magnum and double-checked its chambers to make sure it was fully loaded. Satisfied, he turned around and looked at his companions. They had all drawn their own weapons and they looked at Drew with grim determination set upon their faces. He glanced over at Christie who held the meat-cleaver in her hands.

"That might not do as much good as you hope," Drew said, pulling out the handgun he had with him. "Try using this. It's already loaded and the safety is off. Be careful."

She nodded determinedly.

"This is it. Time to see what's behind door number one." With that, Drew pushed the button. Moments later he heard the hum of the elevator and he saw it coming down. He wished the surface of it wasn't painted in that damn black. Then he would know what to expect when the elevator arrived.

He took a deep sigh when the elevator arrived, raising his magnum as he did so. He would be ready for whatever lay in store for him.

The doors slid open.

"No," Drew said quietly. His voice seemed to becoming from a mile away, and he was barely even aware that he had spoken at all. His mind was too absorbed at the sight before him.

Terry lay slumped against the side of the elevator, head dropped down onto his chest. His hand was a dark red, as if he had just been finger-painting, and there was blood dribbling down his chest from his wounds which had reopened. Other than that, there was very little blood. It looked like he had just collapsed from exhaustion.

"Damn it," Drew said, moving across to the crumpled form of his friend. He placed his fingers against Terry's neck. No pulse. That meant there was no life. Terry was…

_No! _Drew thought defiantly. _Terry can't be dead. I must not have been doing it right. He's not dead. He has to be alive._

He placed his head next to Terry's mouth, listening for any breath. There was none. He refused to give up though. Drew placed his hand over Terry's left breast, feeling for a pulse of his heart. Just like before, there was nothing. Terry was gone.

Drew shook his head side-to-side. Tears started to flow down his face. He could feel them tracing patterns on his cheeks.

"Get back up," Drew whispered quietly to Terry. "You can't be dead. You just can't. Get back up. Damn it!"

The doors started to slide back shut. Michael stuck his hands out as if to block it, but Christie placed her hands over his and pulled them back. "We should leave them alone for a little while," she spoke softly.

Michael bit his bottom lip uncertainly. He looked over to his father who simply nodded. That was all the reassurance he needed. The doors slid shut, sealing Drew inside with his friend.

_How could this have happened? _Drew thought, barely aware that the doors had closed. _Were you really that sick? We should have taken you to a hospital. That's what we should have done. _Part of Drew realized that a hospital would have done no good based on the dilemma that the whole city was in right now, but that did not matter right now. He could only think of how Adam was dead. Zack was dead. Now, Terry was dead; there was one more death to chock up to Raccoon City's death toll.

He raised his hands to his face and rubbed out he tears still lingering there. He took one last look at his friend's face. His eyes were closed, making it easy for Drew to imagine him sleeping peacefully.

"Rest easy, Terry," Drew whispered to his friend's lifeless body as he stood up. He turned his back to his friend and prepared himself to leave. He would have to get a sheet or a blanket of some sort to cover up the security guard. In addition, he would need Josh's help in moving the body to one of the rooms. They could not just leave him sitting in the elevator. They had to give him a…

"Ughhhhh."

Drew stopped dead in his tracks. He recognized that sound all too easily. He had heard the same soulless moan all night.

_How did one get in here?_ Drew thought absent-mindedly. He turned around to see his once dead friend slowly stand back up. Actually, it wasn't standing per se, it was more of slithering. His friend seemed to twist his way up effortlessly like a snake uncoiling itself. Drew was frozen solid with fear and shock as he saw his friend's eyes open to reveal the white blankness he was all to familiar of.

Terry's lifeless gaze met Drew's, and then he lunged forward. Drew was unprepared for such an assault and his zombie friend managed to grab a hold of his shoulders.

Drew could feel hot, rancid breath on his neck. Terry tried to bring his mouth down on Drew's exposed neck, but he managed to duck under the attack. He could hear the _snap_! of Terry's jaws shutting with lethal force, and he realized that could have been the end of him right there. He tried to move away, but Terry's undead grip still held him with ease. He tried to push his dead (but now alive) friend off of him, but the grip was strong. Funny, Drew never would have thought someone dead could have so much strength, but it was possible.

He wrestled with the undead copycat of his once alive friend, struggling to free himself. Terry's mouth snapped open and shut greedily in front of his face, sending spittle flying all over his face. Already, Drew could feel his strength being sapped away from the brawl. He already felt like he had gone ten rounds with Muhammad Ali. He needed to end this quickly. He needed to re-kill his best friend.

The only problem was that his hands were all tied up. He had a gun tucked into his waistband, but what good was it if he couldn't remove his hand to grab it? Just the slightest second would leave his defenses open.

Terry slammed him against one of the walls, knocking the wind out of the bassist, but Drew quickly retaliated by pushing him into another. They pinballed their way around the compact elevator, neither gaining any ground. Drew pushed Terry; Terry pushed Drew. Finally, Terry slammed him into another one of the hard, steel walls. Drew tried to move his feet again and slam his attacker back into the opposite wall, but it did no good. He had been pinned. Game, set, match.

Terry lunged forward, attempting to bite Drew's face off. Reacting quickly without thought, Drew brought up a hand and placed it around Terry's cold, pulse-less throat, a move that very well saved his life. Terry's face inched closer to Drew's, but he remained at bay. His rotten breath washed over the bassist, effectively gagging him. He pushed against the cold flesh, but the zombiefied security guard still managed to gain ground. It would be over in a matter of seconds if he couldn't figure this out.

He looked to his left and saw his edge. There was a panel of buttons glowing faintly. His eyes scanned the columns of buttons quickly, searching for the right one. His eyes flashed back and forth from the buttons to Terry, never looking at either for more than a second. He had to be quick; Terry's face was already nearly pressed to Drew's. He could feel his drool rolling off his dead tongue and on to his own shirt. There was no time to search for that damn OPEN DOOR button. Desperate, he slammed his elbow into the panel, pressing several buttons at once.

Suddenly, the earth seemed to shift under his feet as the elevator rose. The shift in gravity caught Terry off-guard. His face backed away from Drew's, but his grip never lessened.

Then, the elevator doors slid open behind Drew. For one moment his back was on a solid wall, and the next, it seemed to disappear, sending both him and Terry's cold, undead body sprawling to the floor. Finally, the zombie's deathlike grip loosened up. Drew rolled quickly across the carpeted floor, separating himself from Terry. Moving with liquid like movement, Drew stood up, simultaneously drawing the handgun from his waistband. Terry's undead form was already standing back up, but he reached his full height for no more than five seconds.

Leveling the gun on Terry's lifeless eyes, Drew hesitated one second. How could he just shoot one his greatest friends? The fact that Terry had just tried to rip out a good portion of his flesh didn't weigh any on his decision. In fact, there was one thought that gave him the resolve to pull the trigger: _That's not Terry._

BAM!

One report, one bullet, and Terry fell to the ground in a heap with a good portion of his skull missing. Drew's good friend could now finally rest in peace. Sighing, Drew fell against the back wall, letting the gun dangle from his hands to the ground. This time, there were no tears. He just sat there with his head hanging limply between his knees, letting what had just happened sink in.

_Terry turned into one of them, _Drew thought. _But how? _His mind replayed the day's scenario in his mind. That was when he remember the scratch marks on Terry's chest. In his mind it was like working an equation, a very simple one at that. The whole thing could have easily been summed into, scratch plus person equals zombie. That was how there were so many of them so soon. One person infects another, and they in turn infect more. It was an exponential equation that would only end once everyone in the city turned to zombies.

Another horrible thought entered Drew's brain. What if the virus wasn't just in the city? Sure, it stood to reason that that was the case, for they had come to the city from a nation-wide tour. None of the other venues had had zombies. But what if they were all over the country? Or, Heaven forbid, the entire world. What would the group do then? In no time flat, the entire human population could find itself no longer the dominant species on earth. The undead would reign.

_Don't think like that, _Drew told himself. _It does absolutely no good. Right now, you just have to think about this city. You can think about later once you're nice and safe._

That was, if there ever was a nice and safe.

* * *

_A/N: For those of who haven't already, check out Raven Thornheart's fic Resident Evil: Black Ops. It's a kickass fic. Not to mention my characters make a few guest appearances in it, and later Raven's characters will appear in mine. It's a collaboration of sorts, and you should really check it out. Don't forget to leave reviews for it though. I'm sure Raven would love to hear what you think._

_Besides that, I just want to say thanks for all the reviews. I'm always interested in hearing what you guys have to say, so don't forget to drop in a review and tell me your thoughts on this latest chapter. See you around next time._


	13. In Remembrance…

**Chapter Thirteen— In Remembrance…**

Josh sat in the room, all alone, contemplating his fate and the fate of the others heh ad brought with him.

The room had a stereo in it. When he first got in the room, he had tried the local radio stations to see if there was any news on the outbreak. There hadn't been any. Most stations were just filled with static, others were just plain silent. He had come across one working station, but the man running it had seemed less than sane.

"Howdy there," the man said, his voice sad and depressing. The man sounded like he was on the verge of tears. Josh didn't know exactly how he knew it, but he just absolutely knew it was true. "This is Big Bob here at your local station, Y-97." Suddenly the man broke down, and Josh could hear thick sobs on the other side. "Everyone here in the station is dead, except for me. Damned things came through the windows. Thought we had it boarded down good, but oh no, we didn't. Nothing can stop these Goddamn things. Right now, they're outside the very room I'm broadcasting from. I'd give the door another good twenty minutes. That is unless, you know, more decide to beat the hell out of it. Up until then, I'm going to be here. Doing what? I don't really know, but that doesn't matter, now does it? I doubt anyone is listening to this anyway, everyone in the city is probably dead now."

Josh listened intently, hoping for some sort of news that would be useful. Maybe the government was sending in troops as reinforcements. Maybe they would all be saved in a manner of hours. Josh doubted it, but he could cling to that hope. In that category, Big Bob disappointed.

"Not much to tell you about what's going on out there. It's just the Goddamn apocalypse. Dead people filling the streets, eating whatever— or whoever– they come across. Crazy shit, crazy."

Josh flicked it off a few seconds later. That was right around the time Big Bob decided it was time to share the highlights of his life— meeting Bob Dylan, this girl he had an affair with, and some other meaningless trivia. Reaching into his pocket, Josh pulled out a sound alternative, a CD he had grabbed before leaving the record store. It was a Tool CD, one called Aenima. It had always been one of Josh's favorites.

Without reservations, he popped open the CD player of the stereo and inserted the CD. Moments later his ears were treated with the music. He skipped to the fourth song, one called Forty Six and Two. Out of all the tracks on the CD, this one was Josh's favorite. He listened serenely as a smooth bass-line drifted to his ears. Then, the signer began doing his job, and Josh sang along, his voice soft and clean. Many of his fans would be shocked to know that he had a good singing voice; he could actually sing instead of just screaming his head off.

Josh sang, enjoying the sound of his voice. "I've been crawling on my belly, clearing out what could've been. I've been wallowing in my own confused and insecure delusions for a piece to cross me over or a word to guide me in. I wanna feel the changes coming down. I wanna know what I've been hiding…"

The music picked back up, much more intense this time. Josh didn't miss a beat. He followed along, his voice picking up his emotion and spilling it all out. He wasn't screaming, but his voice was powerful and full of emotion.

"In my shadow! My shadow! Change is coming through my shadow! My shadow's…shedding skin! I've been picking…my scabs again!"

From there, he let himself drift off. That was the beauty of music for him. It could take you away, make you forget about the worries in your life. It could make him forget that his brother had just been torn apart by demons, and that was what Josh wanted to do right now, forget.

But his efforts were futile. Every single thought seemed to turn to Zack and his beaming face. He would think about singing and Zack's voice would come to him. He would think about the drums and he would imagine himself on stage, looking right at Zack's back as he did his job. Everything turned to Zack. The more he tried to push him away, the more he would bring him back in.

"Zack," Josh said softly, tears already starting to flow down his cheeks. "Damn it! Why did you have to die? How is it fair? You were the nicest guy I've ever known. You didn't deserve that. None of us did!"

His sobs turned to anger. His blood started to boil at the thought of all that had happened. With a roar he started punching the mattress as hard as he could. He saw the pillows and tore them apart, spraying the fuzzy intestines of the pillow onto the floor. He was enraged, and in his present state of mind he didn't care what he destroyed. In fact, he thought he needed to destroy everything.

There was a lamp on the nightstand which he grabbed and hurled across the room, effectively shattering it as it collided with the wall. There was a clock on the nightstand too. He pulled it out and chucked across the room. The clock smashed right into the stereo, wrecking both of them. The song he was listening to stopped right as Danny Carey's impressive drum solo was to begin. The music stopped right away, sending the silence crashing down onto Josh once again.

The fuel for his anger stopped and he collapsed onto the bed, sobbing into the sheets. He realized that he was drained, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Never in his life had he felt so tired. Despite all his misgivings, he curled onto the bed and closed his eyes, letting himself drift off into sleep. He never got there.

"NO!" a voice roared through the halls.

Instantly, Josh snapped back up, drawing his handgun as he did so. _Was that Terry? _he thought. It certainly had sounded like the security guard, and Josh had no doubt it was him. The only question that remained was, what was the matter with him? Josh's mind turned to horrid thoughts. Most of them dealing with the green devils they had fought to get here. The same green devils that had slaughtered his brother. Anger filled him again.

_Why are they back! _he thought furiously. _Haven't they done enough? They already killed my brother. Nowthey want to take Terry too?_

He stormed out of the room, ready to kick some reptilian ass.

xXxXx

"Can you believe that?" Steve asked. He sat cross-legged on the floor, looking at nothing in particular. "The man just goes and dies, and there's no reason to it. He wasn't attacked by anything."

"Yeah, but you guys said he was sick, right?" Christie asked. She stood not to far away from Steve, arms crossed.

Michael nodded sullenly. "Yeah, but we never found out what was wrong with him. One moment he was fine, and the next he…you know, wasn't."

Christie nodded too, dropping her eyes to the floor.

Michael turned to his father. "I wonder where Josh is right now."

"I'm sure he's fine," his father said gruffly. "He's already made the point that he's the…what'd he call? Oh yeah, the alpha male. He can take of his own damn self."

It was easy for Michael to pick out the contempt in his father's voice; he had lived with it for the past few years. It hadn't always been like that, however. His father had been a different man before, and then there was the divorce.

Michael's mother, Julianne Miller divorced Steve and left. That was all there was to it. They had been fighting a lot before, but Michael had never really thought they would split-up from each other over it. He had held onto the wicked childhood fantasy that everything would be alright, that it would work out in the end. He was wrong; it only got worse.

After the break-up on a marriage that had lasted just short of a decade (almost eight years, exactly) things had been different— no matter which household he was in. His mother was quick to remarry. The man who now claimed to be his father was named Robert Snare. He was kind enough. He had even offered to adopt Michael— an offer he had refused none too kindly. However, Michael knew that Robert would never be able to replace his real father, nor was he just willing to abandon the Miller name.

Steve was much less fortunate in the divorce settlement. He had lost the house, moving into an apartment complex in Raccoon City. He had even lost his son. Julianne won the settlement, and it was determined that Michael would live with her for the majority of the time. The minority of the time (the time with his father) was the weekends every two weeks. Then it was back to mom.

When he stayed with his father, things were never the same. Unlike his mom, Steve wasn't quick to remarry. He had tried, but each girlfriend had turned into another unsuccessful relationship. That was when the drinking started.

It wasn't too uncommon for Michael to come home from a game of catch with his few friends to find his father passed out on the dirty sofa, bottle clenched in his hand. Luckily for him, his father wasn't a violent drunk, but he was a depressed one. Then there were the DUI's. The longer he drank, the more cold and distant he became.

Over time, that distance had been bridged, but only by a little. Sometimes his father would appear happy, but Michael knew it was just a sham, a trick so that Michael would think that nothing was wrong with his father. However, his father didn't give him enough credit; he could see through the façade. He knew that his father was really depressed on the inside. Michael didn't like the new father Steve had become. He wished desperately for the return of his old dad, the happy dad.

Suddenly, there was a low, grumbling roar. Michael placed a hand on his stomach and looked around a little nervous. "Guess I'm a little hungry," he said, chuckling a little.

Christie fixed him with a warm smile. "I think that goes without saying. I could hear that from over here."

Steve stood up and placed his hand lightly on top of Michael's head, in a fatherly way. Michael thought about life after this. Would his father change? He had an idea that it was possible. He had heard in school that tragedy had a way of pulling a family back together. Possibly, it could pull his father back from the brink of self-destruction.

_BAM!_

Michael jumped at the gunshot. It was so loud and so close, and it had pierced the silence viciously, sounding like a crack of thunder. His jumped in its chest, and the blood in his ears pounded. He turned quickly, facing the elevator with its bloody doors. "Was that Drew?" he asked.

No one gave an answer, for there was no need for one. They all knew that it had been Drew.

Michael raced towards the door, reaching out eagerly for the CALL button. He looked up and noticed the elevator making its descent. It was hard to count the floors from where he stood, but it looked to him like it was coming from the fourth floor. The elevator arrived, and no sooner had it gave its ring, announcing its arrival, Michael was sliding into it.

"Hold on, son," Steve called out. Michael stood waiting. As soon as his father and Christie entered he closed the doors and pressed the fourth floor button. "Listen to me, Michael," his father spoke sternly. "When we reach the floor I want you and Christie to stay here. I'll…" he gulped, filled with uncertainty. "I'll go ahead and make sure it's safe. We don't know where you're friend is or what he was attacked by."

"Dad, no!" Michael said. "We have to stay together. I've got a gun. I can go!"

"No!" Steve objected, raising his voice. "You're too young for this. You need to stay safe. You need to stay here."

"Guys," Christie interrupted. Michael looked over to her where she was. Her eyes were pacing around the floor in an attempt to find something. "Where's the security guard? He died in here, so shouldn't he be here?"

Michael's heart jumped into his throat. _She's right, _he thought. _He's not here._

_Relax, _he told himself. _Drew must have decided to take him out, and put him in a room. You know, give him a proper burial or something. It's not like he could just get up and walk. _At that thought, he grew even more worried. Sure, most people would believe the statement that the dead can't just get up and walk around, but Michael had seen it firsthand today. That was what worried him so much. Terry _could _get back up and walk, for in Raccoon City, the dead had trouble staying still.

"You don't think…" Steve mumbled, seeming to read Michael's thoughts.

Before any one could answer him, the doors slid open. Despite his father's orders, Michael was the first to exit the elevator. Surprisingly, his father didn't object; he merely followed, gun drawn.

Michael stopped no sooner had he taken five steps out of the elevator. His whole body seemed to freeze. He had meant to call out for Drew, but his voice died in his throat. _How is this possible? _he thought. He had thought that something like this might have happened, yet he never truly believed it, never _wanted _to believe it.

Drew sat slumped against the wall, staring blankly at the floor. His hands hung loosely, supported only by his gray pant covered knees. A few feet away from him was the security guard, Terry Wakefield. Half of his cranium had seemed to dissolve, allowing a pool of blood to spread from the wound. In the blood Michael could see chunks of brain matter floating in the liquid, seeming to swim like little worms. He had the urge to puke, but he managed to hold it done. It had only part to do with the violent scene (he had seen enough violence already to start desensitizing him to bloodshed)but more to deal with the fact that he knew this person. He had talked with this person; he had walked with this person; he had spent the last so-many hours living in a hell with this man.

"He…he turned," was all Drew said. He looked up at Michael with red, weary eyes and then looked back at the ground. To the teenager, it looked like the bassist was still in shock over what he had done, maybe he was full of regret. He had, after all, shot his friend.

"Wait," Steve chimed in. "Did you say he, _turned_?"

Drew nodded solemnly.

"But how?"

Drew shot his gaze to Michael's father. Michael watched with wonder as the bassist's gaze changed from one of remorse to one of anger. "I don't fucking know! One moment he was dead, and the next he's trying to rip my throat out! You think I had a fucking clue as to why he got back up! No!"

Steve was taken aback by this outburst. In an effort to redeem himself, he spoke again, but he did nothing more than mumble. "I didn't…I…I…didn't…know." He paused before continuing, but when he did, his voice was much more calm and clear. "I'm sorry. Really, I am. I didn't mean it like that. It's just that…well you know, I'm a little confused. That's all."

"Yeah, I'm sorry to," Drew said quietly. "I didn't mean to snap like that. I'm just a little out of it right now. I mean, I killed one of best friends with my own hands."

"It's not your fault," Christie said, moving next to him and placing a comforting hand on his shoulders. "You had to do what you did to protect yourself. Besides, I'm sure he would have wanted you to do that."

"Yeah," Michael agreed. "That wasn't Terry. That was just something that looked like Terry. After all, Terry wouldn't attack you."

"I guess you guys are right."

Then Steve surprised everyone. He went into one of the rooms close to them and came back out with one of the sheets. Without a word, he set the sheet on top of Terry's (once and for all) lifeless body.

Drew smiled at the father. "Thanks."

Michael smiled to. This was definite change for his father. Normally, he was just looking out for himself. But this, this was something different entirely. This was something he would have done before the divorce. Michael smiled again. Maybe there was hope for him and his father.

xXxXx

Josh walked through the halls on the third floor in search of his friend Terry. Since he heard the scream, he had heard nothing else. Not even a gunshot pierced the tranquility of the hotel. However, as peaceful as the halls were, there was something sinister there as well. It was like something evil and foul was working out of his sight, but he could feel it. He was reminded of the story of Hansel and Gretel. They too had found what looked like a safe haven in the forest, a house made of candy, yet it had turned out to be a trap set by a witch.

What if Josh had led them to a candy house of sorts? Ever since the leaving the theatre he had been determined to reach the hotel, thinking it to be safer than everywhere else. So far he had been right and wrong. He had been right in thinking it was safe— so far they had encountered little in the numbers of zombies and now it seemed to be sealed off from the outside. However, it had all come at a cost. The cost of his own brother's blood. Now that Josh thought about it, that wasn't a sacrifice he was willing to make. If he could have gone back in time, he would have taken them somewhere else, anywhere else. He would give anything to have his brother back.

_Stop it, _a voice said to him from the back of his mind. _It does no good to think like that. You can't change anything. There's nothing you can do to bring your brother back. He's gone and you have to realize that. You have to move on. For the other's sake._

The others.

He hadn't been thinking of them. He still had Drew left— only half of Last Man Standing remained now— and there was still Terry. He still had friends in this hellhole. He still had people to count on.

_But for how long? _he though cynically. _Terry's already in trouble. He could be dead, lying in a pool of his own blood right now. After that, how long until Drew dies? Hours? Minutes? You can't tell. You don't know._

Clammy hands grabbed his shoulder, and for the first time, Josh recognized a smell he hadn't noticed before— the smell of rot, of death. Reacting quickly, he grabbed the hands and ducked, pulling the arms with all his strength. Another wave of death washed over him as a living cadaver was hurled over his shoulders. The man, dressed in a tattered red bellboy's suit landed roughly on his back. There was no sound of pain or surprise. Josh breathed heavily as he pulled out his handgun and pointed it straight between the young looking man's pale, lifeless eyes.

"Almost got me," he said out loud as he pulled the trigger. The body gave a quick jolt as the bullet found its mark. Carefully, Josh stepped over the body, making sure not to stop on the corpse's limbs.

"Have to be more careful," he lectured himself out loud. "Fucker almost got me right there. That was way too close for comfort." He thought about the clammy hands touching his shoulder. He could still feel the cold touch through his short-sleeve shirt. He could still feel the hot, rancid breath of the dead on his neck, and he could imagine all too easily the bellboy bringing his gaping maw inches away from the nape of Josh's neck. He shuddered, trying to rid himself of the image and the phantom touch that still hung onto him.

He walked further down the hall, now keeping his wits about him. He had thought there were no zombies here, but that bellboy had proven him wrong. He had to keep his senses sharp in order to detect any others that were hiding. He listened carefully, taking note of every noise just in case he heard shuffling feet or one of the tell-tale moans. He heard nothing like that, but he heard something else.

BAM!

The gunshot seemed to echo in his head. From where he was, it wasn't deafening, but it was impossible for it to go unnoticed. Without fear of other zombies, Josh picked up the pace, turning his walk into a jog. The gunshot had sounded like it had come from the floor above him, so he jogged quickly to the staircase.

He shoved the door open quickly and raced up the stairs, taking them two, sometimes even three at a time. The staircase kept turning, winding onto itself like a coiled snake. He turned and saw another zombie standing at the top of the staircase, right in front of the door to the fourth floor. This one was a woman dressed in a business suit. Her curly brown hair was matted down with blood. Josh noticed that only one of her feet was clad in a dark heel.

She seemed to stare quizzically at Josh with her blank eyes. Josh stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at her, and she stared down at him. Finally, the zombie woman moaned and stepped forward. Josh watched with slight humor as the shuffling feet stepped off the top of the stairs, meeting only air. She rolled down the stairs, and Josh stopped aside as her body came crumpling to the floor next to him. He heard a sickening _crack_! and he didn't even have to look at the woman's oddly bent neck to know the fall had been fatal.

Without a word or a look back, he stepped onto the first step of the stairs and moved forward.

He pushed the door open and his ears picked up on voices. They were quiet and muffled, but they were there. Josh had a fairly good guess as to who they belonged to too. He moved towards the voices farther down the hall. He turned a corner and saw his group. His eyes were instantly drawn to a human shaped lump set aside carefully. It was covered by a sheet, but it took no stretch of Josh's imagination to figure out who was under it.

"Terry!" Josh yelled out, running in a dead sprint to the group. The others looked up at him with hurt eyes, but he didn't see them. He only saw his dead friend. He dropped to his knees while running, using his momentum to slide right up to Terry's form. His knees ached from the carpet burn, but he didn't care. The pain was miniscule in comparison to Terry. Just another microscopic worry in a world of giant problems.

"I'm so sorry, Josh," Drew was saying. He moved over to Josh and put a hand on his shoulder. "None of us even saw this coming."

"What happened to him?" Josh asked. No one answered, they only turned their heads away as if they were ashamed. There were no tears for Terry's death— those had been used up already— yet there was anger. Plenty of it too. "I asked you what the fuck happened to him!" His voice rose to a dangerous level, one so vicious even he didn't enjoy the sound of it. Exasperated, Josh did the only thing he could think of, he pulled the sheet down. If no one would tell him what happened, he would see for himself.

He gasped aloud, and he started going into a fit of choking heaves. It was a miracle that he didn't vomit. He turned his head away and pulled the sheet back over Terry's ruined face.

"What the fuck happened to him!" Josh asked again, his voice no longer loud, but still angry. "Half his face is missing! It's just gone! What fucking happened!"

Part of him knew the answer, but he was still shocked when Drew stepped forward, tears in his eyes (apparently his well hadn't run dry yet). "I…I did it," Drew said quietly, dropping his gaze to the floor.

"What!"

Drew raised his eyes back to Josh's. He could see that his friend was just as hurt and angry as he was. "I shot him."

Josh was aghast. "You did what?"

"That's right, I shot him." There was an awkward silence as Josh and Drew just stared at each other.

"But he had to!" Michael piped in. "Your friend turned into one of them. He was just protecting himself."

Josh turned his troubled gaze to Drew, then back to Michael, then back to Drew again. He kept looking back and forth between them, searching for the truth.

"He…he honestly turned?" he asked finally. "He became a…a zombie?"

Drew said nothing, only nodded his head glumly.

"But how? It doesn't make any sense. He was fine before. Sure he was a little sick, but it wasn't much. Right?"

"That's what I thought too," Drew said. "Guess we were wrong." He pointed to Terry's chest. The sheet covered teh wounds, but it had started to turn a shade of red where the scrathes on his chest had lain. "Remember how he got scratched by one of them? Well, I think that was what got him sick. I think that one someone is bit or even scratched— as was the case for Terry— that they become a zombie themselves. That's how thereare so many of them out there right now."

Josh's thoughts re-winded, turning back to the time he had closed the door of the dressing room. At the time, he could of sworn that Adam's form had moved some as if he was reawakening from his sleep or something. He had dismissed it as an illusion then, but now he doubted that. He doubted that very much. Now, he understood. He understood that Adam had indeed been reawakening, but he was doing so as a zombie. His thoughts turned to the guitarist.

Was he really as dead as they all thought? No doubt he was shuffling about trying to feast on human flesh like the rest of them. It wasn't a pleasant thought. _I swear, _Josh though. _If I ever see him, I will end his suffering. I will give him his well-needed rest._

"It's like those zombie movies they used to show," Michael said, interrupting Josh's thoughts. "You know, the ones by Romero?"

Drew turned to the boy with a raised eyebrow. "How do you know Romero?

The boy shrugged and offered a coy smile. "I'm kind of a horror nut."

Now it was Steve's turn to raise an eyebrow at Michael. "Really? When did that start? I remember when you used to be afraid of clowns. We never could get you to go to the circus."

"I still am," Michael said, plainly. "That said, if I see a zombie clown, I might just crap my pants."

Steve laughed, as did Drew and Christie. Josh looked at them for half a second before joining in with them. The laughter was infectious, and it felt good. The way Josh figured, if he could still laugh when all of this was said and done, things might just turn out fine.

The laughter subsided and Michael's stomach took that opportune moment to voice its hunger. This display caused the boy's face to turn an embarrassed shade of red. And everyone promptly burst into another fit of laughter.

"Come on," the boy's father said, putting a hand on his son's shoulders. "Let's get you something to eat. I'm sure we're all starving."

"Before that though," Drew interrupted. "We have something to take care of."

Steve turned and saw Terry's inanimate body. "Right," he said, nodding.

Together, Josh, Drew, and Steve managed to pick up the security guard's body and hoist it to one of the closer rooms. It was perfectly clean and neat— much like the room Terry had rested in— and it seemed the perfect place for Terry to rest. It was like an oasis in a desert— that was the closest Josh could compare it too.

They placed Terry on one of the cream colored comforters, and his large body seemed to sink into it. _Looks comfy, _Josh thought disjointedly. _Perfect for resting. _In a way, that was exactly what Terry was doing. He was resting in a deep slumber. Josh smiled at the thought. It was comforting at least. It made him feel much better knowing that wherever Terry was he was at least getting some well deserved rest.

Josh went to work emptying out Terry's pockets, relieving him of all his ammo. While searching through the pockets he found something else. There was a picture in the security guard's pocket. It showed a smiling family. Terry sat, holding his wife— Mary, Josh thought her name was— and in front of them were three children. Two of them young boys and the other an even younger girl. They all looked so happy.

_Nice family you got there, pal, _Josh thought. Gently, he pried open one of Terry's hands and placed the photograph in it, closing the hand around it once it was in place.

Drew brought over another set of sheets and placed it over the one Steve had lain out on Terry's slain body. The older sheet was starting to get bloody. When the sheet was placed delicately over the security guard's body, there was a moment of silence. It seemed that the whole world was silent in remembrance of Terry Wakefield. Even outside, the moans of the undead and the gunshots seemed to be inexistent. Josh forgot completely that he was in the middle of a zombie attack.

"We should say a few words," Drew said.

"Yeah," Josh said. "I'll go first."

He moved over, positioning himself so that he was near Terry's head. He looked down at the shrouded figure, and spoke as if speaking to Terry directly.

"You were a great man," Josh said, his voice surprisingly calm. "I remember when I first met you at the start of the tour. I was a little put off by you because of your size, but it didn't take me long to figure out there was more to you then meets the eye. You were always kind, and you were always looking out for everyone on the tour. You were some kind of guard." Tears started to leak from his eyes and he rubbed them away. _Looks like I'm not empty after all, _he thought. "We're all going to miss you, buddy. We're going to miss you a lot, but at least you're someplace better."

He stepped back, and Drew came forward. "To be completely honest," Drew said. "I don't know what to say. It just took me completely by surprise. I never expected something like this to happen— any of it." He paused, trying to choke down some tears and sobs. "I'm sorry this had to happen. I'm sorry I shot you. I didn't want to, believe me. I'm so sorry." Drew started crying and walked away.

Steve, Christie, and Michael each said their own goodbye's, but they weren't that long. When Christie finished hers, the group left solemnly. Josh was the last one out. He took one last, painful look at the security guard's body.

That's when a flash of déjà vu washed over him. He imagined a scene much like the one back at the dressing room. Then, he was closing the door when he could have sworn the sheet covering Adam's body had moved as if the dead guitarist was sitting back up. Here, the same thing happened, but he didn't shut the door. He just stared blankly and stupidly as Terry sat back up.

As he rose, the sheet slid off his form, revealing his new ghastly features. His skin was pale and rotting. The left side of his skull was gone, exposing a sick gray matter that had to be the brain. The strangest thing were the eyes. They weren't like the other zombies– dull and lifeless. These eyes seemed to retain the intelligence of their former owner. In fact, he could still see the light green irises. The eyes fixed him with a hateful glare, and the apparition began to point a bloody claw at him.

Josh blinked and the illusion disappeared. There was no zombie Terry; there was only the dead Terry under the sheets. Josh shook his head dumfounded and closed the door gently. Even though it had been an illusion— probably brought on from the intense stress he had been put under recently— he was still left shaken. His body temperature seemed to drop and he could still feel the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

_Don't let it get to you, _Josh thought to himself. _You just need some rest, that's all._

Still, he couldn't get that image out of his head. It was stuck in there like an image carved into rock. He understood the hate in the apparition's eyes. It was blame. Blame on Josh for not being there to help him.

"We did good," Drew said, standing next to the drummer. "I'm sure he would have liked that."

"Yeah," Josh agreed, still dumfounded from his experience. "He would have liked that a lot."

Josh turned back to the door to see Michael walking up to it. He started fiddling the doorknob, but Josh couldn't see what was going on. The boy's body was blocking it. When Michael moved away, Josh saw a small plastic sign hanging from the handle.

"DO NOT DISTURB," it read.

xXxXx

_A/N: There you go. I know there isn't a lot of action it, but there were some issues that had to be resolved before I could continue the plot. Also, I wanted to use the time to maybe introduce some more of the Miller family's (Michael and Steve's) characteristics. As always, please drop me a review and tell me your thoughts._


	14. A Midnight Visitor

**Chapter Fourteen— A Midnight Visitor**

The group sat at one of the tables of the café. Josh sat on one side by himself, opposite of him were Drew and Steve. Christie and Michael had gone to the kitchen in an effort to find something to eat.

Josh looked over and saw the table that he had sat at earlier. His mind started playing tricks on him again as he looked at the familiar table. He started to have what they call an "outer body experience." He saw himself sitting at the table, surrounded by his band mates. He was reliving his experience from an outer perspective.

"_What if we sacrificed Adam to the gods? He's not a good guitarist anyway. No loss there," _Josh heard his spectral brother say, erupting the entire group into a fit of laughter. They all looked so happy, so content with their Rock and Roll lifestyle. Josh's heart sank as he gazed at the imaginary faces of Adam and Zack.

_Give it up, _he thought. _Both of them are dead. You'll never see them laugh like that again._

Tears started to roll down his eyes, but he wiped them away before anyone could see them. At least, he thought he did.

Drew was sitting across from him, fixing him with a grave look. Josh looked back at him. For a moment, neither of them said anything, but they didn't need to. Josh had spent enough time with Drew to read his signs. The bassist gave a quick nod and looked back at Steve, who sat next to him. This simple gesture meant, _I know what you're dealing with. I understand. If you want to go let it out, feel free to leave the table at anytime._

That was what Josh had been thinking about, but now he stayed. It was comforting to realize that he wasn't alone in this, no matter what his mind tried to tell him. Drew was having the exact same feelings as he. He had known them just as much as Josh had.

_No he hadn't, _a voice whispered in Josh's ears. This voice was a new one. He had never heard it until this night, until his brother died. He knew what it was. It was the voice of remorse, of guilt, and he knew he would have to bear with it. _He didn't live with Zack all his life like you did. Remember, he still has his brother waiting for him at home. Do you? No you don't._

Josh tuned the voice out, opting for his friends conversations instead.

"How long do you think we can stay here?" Steve asked.

Drew shook his head. "No idea. I say as long as we can. I mean, this is the safest place we've come to. Nothing here but a few scattered zombies. I'll take those zombies any day as long as we can still get some rest and some food."

Josh nodded, but didn't really contribute anything to the conversation.

"Makes sense," Steve said, rubbing his chin. "I guess we can stay here until the military gets things under control. The government must have gotten wind of this already. They'd be sending in the National Guard right away! Right?"

"Yeah," Drew said, sounding much less happy about it than Steve. "They'd have to. They're going to try and quarantine this city I bet. You know, just to make sure the rest of the United States doesn't get infected like this."

"But what about those still inside?" Steve asked. His pitch had turned from a gleeful one to sounding much more scared.

_We're screwed, _Josh thought.

Drew didn't say anything to that effect (it would have only succeeded in freaking the poor man out). He selected something much more reassuring. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure they'll see us and realize we're not infected. Maybe they'll keep it safe and lock us in some sort of solitary confinement to see if we end up changing. Other than that, I'm sure they're also looking for any survivors. It isn't like the government would just forsake those still in the city."

"Yeah," Steve said, sounding much more calm. "You're right."

"So we're just going to stay here then?" Josh asked.

"Yeah, I don't see any reason why not. It's easily the safest place we've seen all night. This event has to blow over some time. I say we just take shelter and wait it out."

"We're going to have to do something to defend ourselves at some point," Josh said. "I mean, we're off the zombies radar right now, but for how long? They'll find us at some point."

"That's a comforting thought," Steve said, letting loose a long sigh.

"I know what you mean, Steve," Drew said. "Only, he's right. We're going to have to find the exits and barricade them up. We have to be safe and make sure nothing outside can get in."

"I say we get started on it," Steve said quickly. "We should get working right away! Never know when one of these bastards will come."

"You can wait until after diner though," a voice interrupted. The group turned to see Christie and Michael approaching the group. They were carrying trays filled with plates. There were six plates, each full of steaming pasta.

"Spaghetti?" Drew asked.

"Yep," Michael said with a beaming smile.

"It's pretty much the only thing left in the kitchen I would know how to make," Christie explained. "I'm not much of a cook."

"I'll have to disagree with you on that," Steve said, already digging into his plate of noodles. "These are delicious! If only we had some sauce to go with them."

"Ask and you shall receive," Christie said. "I made some of that too. I just couldn't bring it out with us. I'll go get it now."

Josh stared down at his plate of food. He knew he should try to eat, but he just didn't feel like it. It didn't feel right for him to be eating without his brother eating next to him. Still, he'd have to try.

He grabbed his fork and dug in.

xXxXx

"I think that's the last of them," Steve said after pushing the giant couch in front of the front door.

Drew stepped back, and appraised the work. Him and Steve had managed to barricade the front doors with nearly everything they could find in the lobby. They had pushed the giant TV in front and added all the furniture— two large sofas and a long couch. "That should hold them off for awhile, eh? Otherwise, they're going to have to bring in a whole army to move that."

"They could do it," Steve said glumly. "Did you see how many of already turned? Damn near the whole city I suppose."

"Yeah," Drew sighed. It wasn't a pleasant thought, and he mentally kicked himself for bringing it up.

"Wonder how your friend is doing," Steve said suddenly.

"I'm sure he's fine," Drew said. In truth, he didn't believe. He knew the pain Josh was in. He couldn't be alright now, not after so many of his friends— and even his brother— had died tonight.

"Between you and me," Steve said. "I don't think he is."

Drew raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing else. He thought he knew where Steve was getting at.

"Sure, the man is physically fine, but that's about it. Emotionally, he's severely damaged, and I don't blame him. Losing someone like that is tough, but he's got to realize there are other people here counting on him. He's been leading us through this, but he can't do any more leading if his mind is messed up just like it is."

Drew said nothing, but he was nodding along in agreement with Steve on the inside. The man had a point. They needed someone who was in the right state of mind. Someone who could think in critical situations. As of right now, Drew didn't think his friend could handle making decisions like that.

"I'm saying someone else needs to take charge," Steve continued. "One of us— me or you. We both have our heads at the right place, and that's going to be our key to survival."

Drew fetched a heavy sigh. "I guess you're right, but I want to make this perfectly clear: I don't like it. Seems to much like betrayal or something." Steve went to say something, but Drew continued, overtaking the conversation. "This has nothing with me wanting to take over leadership. In fact, I don't give a rat's ass who leads this group as long as we survive. This about helping my friend Josh. And that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to help him move on. For all of our sakes."

With that said, Drew walked away from Steve, leaving the man behind. Despite what Steve said, he knew what it was about. It was all about how Josh had made him the fool back at the Music Junkie store. Steve had let that get under his skin, and now he thought he could take over the group. Drew smiled a little. _Good luck with that, _he thought. _Josh is no pushover._

"Hey, Drew!" a familiar voice called out.

_Speak of the devil._

"Yeah, Josh?" Drew said, turning to his friend.

"Did you and Steve get the front door secured?"

"As good as it's going to get."

"Alright. I checked the other exits. There aren't many of them, so it didn't take much to barricade them up. I also made sure we had some escape routes, there's some fire escapes we can use if things get too chaotic."

Drew smiled. "You sure did plan this out, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Of course."

_Screw Steve, _Drew thought. _He's wrong—Josh is just fine. He's got enough sense still._

"I think it's time we got some rest," Josh suggested. "Someone's going to have to stand guard though."

"I'll handle it," Drew said suddenly.

Josh shook his head. "I don't think so. I'll take it." Then he added, much quieter this time. "I'm not going to get much sleep anyway."

xXxXx

The halls were empty and bare, but Josh didn't mind. In fact, this was the only time in the night that he didn't mind it being so quiet. Before, the silence had deeply perturbed him, affecting him mentally. Now, it was actually a comfort.

The rest of the group had agreed wholeheartedly that it was time for a much needed rest. There was little argument in letting Josh take the first watch. Drew was the only one who opposed, and the only way he would go to sleep was if Josh promised to wake him up after a few hours so he could take his turn.

The group had moved to the top floor, hoping the stairs would be enough to deter any zombies, but if worse came to worst, they still had the elevator. The group had decided to stay in one room, together, in case something was to go awry. The only room they could get into at this floor was the one Josh and Drew had stayed at prior. They had the key to this one, and everything else was locked up nice and tight.

He patrolled the tenth floor hallway, keeping Terry's shotgun clenched in his hands. When coming back upstairs to rest, Josh had grabbed the gun and Drew had grabbed the handgun Terry had left in the elevator. It didn't feel exactly right to strip Terry down of his weapons, but the group had to survive. To do that, they'd need all the weapons they could get.

Josh looked down at the shotgun he held in his hands, smiling slightly. Anything looking for a midnight snack was going to get a nasty surprise.

He walked, moving past each of the doors his companions had slept in, listening to the quiet around him. When he got tired of walking, he stopped and sat against the wall, looking both ways like a kid trying to cross a busy street.

The halls were still lit nicely which was good. Josh didn't want to go through another episode like he had in the storage room of the gas station. He shuddered. He could still feel the hot breath of the dead man on the back of his neck. He could still smell the scent of death lingering in the air. He could still even hear the shuffling feet of the dead.

_THUD! SWSHHH! THUD SHWSHHH!_

_Wait, _he thought. _I actually am hearing it now._ He looked around and saw nothing, yet he could still hear the slow, methodical footsteps of some unknown undead. Curious, Josh stood up. He stood still, letting his ears absorb the noise in an attempt to locate the zombie.

"Left," Josh said quietly as he moved towards the noise. He could see the end of the hall, and it was all clear. However, he knew he was getting closer; the footsteps kept getting louder. He reached the corner and stopped. He could smell the thing now, a rotten cologne that reminded him of vegetables left out in the sun for far too long. The creature was around the corner, no doubt about that.

Quietly as he could (he still didn't know how well the zombies could hear, but he wasn't taking any chances) he swung the shotgun around to his back, opting for the handgun instead. A simple headshot would suffice in bringing down this monstrosity. He checked his handgun to make sure the safety was off. When he felt comfortable, he swung around the corner and saw the zombie.

It was a disgusting thing. It resembled a man, an obscenely obese one at that. The hair was a mat of filthy, grease-drenched brown hair. The thing's chest was bare, exposing the bulbous, whale-like body. Luckily for Josh, the man was still wearing the tattered remains of his sleeping pants. Josh realized this man would have disgusted him even if he hadn't been a zombie, but the fact he was undead certainly added a lot more to him.

The man's right leg was twisted and deformed. Josh could see pale bone poking its way out of the puss-filled wound. It was amazing that the man could even stand on it. There were deep gashes across the man's blubbery chest. Each of them looked deep, and they shown a bright crimson in the light of the hall.

Josh wasted no time in raising his handgun and shooting a bullet into the man's cranium. The drummer watched with horrid fascination as the man's body crashed to the ground. There was a wet _smack_! as the man's corpulent body met the carpeted hall.

"Disgusting," Josh said with a grimace, replaying the sound over in his head. He gave the body one last look before turning back to the hall, resuming his guard.

Once again, Josh began his patrol, sweeping up and down the corridor like a soldier, shotgun resting lazily against his shoulder. As his feet plodded along the hallway, back and forth, his mind began to wander. At a time like this, a wandering mind was a bad thing.

When his mind deviated from his duty, the same images that haunted him came back. Most of these images stemmed from the death of his brother. It was something he couldn't let go— even though everyone else had seemed to move on.

_They just don't understand, _Josh thought. _They have no idea what it is like to lose someone that close to you. They just don't care._

Anger began boiling with his sorrow, a deadly mix, yet he managed to calm himself down by singing again. The lyrics he had made up earlier. If he still had a band— he didn't think he could ever be in another band without Adam and Zack— they might have used this very song.

"In heaven, an angel cries as a devil dies," Josh sang softly. "And here on Earth, the tears fall from the sky. Sympathy and empathy to you. It's what you deserve. Its what you deserve for your sacrifice, for your sacrifice."

His mind began to drift yet again. He thought of all the joyful moments he and his brother had shared: the time they had gone skydiving with the rest of the band, the time Zack had finally turned twenty-one and the group had celebrated with one giant party, the very first concert they had gone to together, the list went on and on. Then, the bad memories came flooding along. Josh wasn't surprised to find that most of these had come from their time in Raccoon City.

He relived the moment they had fought side to side in the tight hallway of the gas station. However, the moment he kept replaying over and over in his head was when they were being chased by the green devils. He remembered the gleam of the moonlight off one of the demons glistening scales and claws as it leapt in the air toward him. He thought he had been done for, and that would have been alright. He would have much preferred to die there then have Zack sacrifice himself for his life. He remembered the blood that pooled down from Zack's side as he watched him wrestle with one of the lizard men.

"Stop it," Josh said out loud, trying to erase the traces of tears from his face with the heel of his hand. "Just stop. All you're doing is torturing yourself." He understood this, yet he found himself powerless to stop. He couldn't control the wave of emotions that were sweeping over him so suddenly.

He needed something to distract himself. He couldn't think of much, so he opted to go further down the hall and find a snack machine or maybe a pop machine. Maybe eating something would help clear his mind. His stomach rumbled in agreement (even though he had eaten well at the diner they had had).

He looked back with blurry eyes to make sure everything was fine, and it was. Of course it was. There weren't any zombies left in the building. The fat man had been one of the last Josh had seen in awhile. _They'll be fine, _Josh thought as he moved down the halls, navigating them with relative ease.

It didn't take him long to find the snack machines. He had to go a lot further down the hall then he expected, but it was just as well. During the walk he had managed to get a grip on himself. He stood in front of the snack machine, wondering how he would get through the glass and to the tasty snacks inside.

_I bet that glass isn't bulletproof,_ Josh thought simply. That was all the thought he needed. He stepped to the side and pulled out his handgun. He made sure to aim the gun at an angle just on the off chance that it was bulletproof. He had already learned about the dangerous effects of ricocheting bullets.

He pulled the trigger, and the effect was immediate. The glass shattered, falling into millions of tiny shards. Josh noticed too that the bullet had managed to pierce a row of corn chips, shedding the bags and spilling the food to the ground. It didn't matter to him though; he was never a big fan of corn chips.

He reached in and grabbed a regular bag of potato chips. It didn't take him long to tear the bag open and begin munching on the snacks inside. Satisfied, he began walking back the way he had come. As he moved, munching on his potato chips all the while, he heard a new sound.

_Click! Click!_

Josh stopped in his tracks and listened carefully for the noise again. He heard nothing. Shrugging slightly, he moved forward again.

_Click! Click! Click! Click!_

The noise came again, much faster this time. Josh stopped again dropping the potato chips to the floor as he pulled out his newly acquired shotgun. He stopped, scanning the hallways behind him. In this hallway, most of the lights had gone off, giving the room a much more sinister feel, one Josh didn't like one bit.

"Anyone there?" Josh called, trying to keep his voice as calm and collected as possible. There was no answer, but he did hear more of the clicking noises. They reminded him of fingernails tapping on a desk. In Josh's lifetime, he had done a lot of finger tapping. In fact, he used to do it all the time when he had been away from his drum set.

He called out again. "Anyone there? Seriously, if you're there, come out. I'm not going to hurt you." He stopped, then considered. "If you're worried about me being one of them, don't. Zombies can't talk."

_Click! Click! Click!_

The noises continued and Josh began backing up, turning his eyes left to right, searching for the cause of the noise. He didn't want to admit it, but he was terrified now. He didn't know such fear could come from a simple noise. He had to keep bringing his sweaty palms to his shorts to keep them dry. He backed up slowly and carefully. Every step he made, he heard the Clicker (as he had now dubbed the mysterious enemy) mimic his step, but doubled. Whatever this thing was, it wanted to catch up to him…

Or worse.

Josh came to a junction, he looked over to his right and he could see the corner of the hall. He knew that around that corner were his friends, sleeping peacefully in their beds. He realized he couldn't move back to them, he would only draw the Clicker to the rest of his friends. He had to keep his friends safe.

He looked to his left and without a second thought he ran down the hall.

_Click! Click! Click! Click!_

The noises picked up speed, following him down the hall; he was sure of it. In truth, he was glad the thing was chasing him. If only he could lead it farther away from his friends. He gripped the shotgun in his hands, pumping his legs as he ran down the hall. He came to a corner and turned. His feet started to slip from underneath him, but he placed his spare hand to the ground, managing to keep his balance, but just barely.

_This is far enough, _Josh thought. He stopped, turning around and raising the shotgun to his eye. He would have to make his stand here.

_Click! Click! Click!_

The noises were getting closer but they were oblivious of the fact that Josh had stopped running. Josh smiled defiantly as he kept his eyes set on the corner he had turned.

_That's right, _he thought. _Keep on coming you bastard. I got a present waiting for you._

The noises suddenly stopped, turning the environment back to complete silence. Josh heard nothing but the blood pounding in his ears and the muffled _thumps_! of his own heart. Then, there was something else. It was a low hissing noise. It reminded Josh of the sound of steam. His grip on his shotgun tightened. He was ready, ready for anything.

As it turned out, he wasn't as ready as he thought.

He expected something to come around the corner, yet he didn't fully expect the appearance of what came bounding around the corner.

Josh hesitated then; he didn't mean to, but he found himself frozen at the sight of the thing. It was hideous. The closest thing it resembled was a normal human, except there was no skin at all. Only pink muscle showed on the creature's body. Also, its brain was exposed from the lack of its skin. It crawled on all fours on large clawed feet— the claws had to have been nearly half a foot long. However, it didn't crawl on the floor. No, it used the claws to dig into the wall and cling to the lightly shaded green wallpaper. It stopped, hugging the wall close to its skinless body. It peered at Josh quizzically, not sure of what to do.

Josh took a step back, raising the shotgun as he did so. His movement was all it took for the creature to move. It opened its maw and Josh watched with horror as a long tongue slid out of the jaws, covered with thick saliva that dripped to the carpeted floor. Josh was amazed at the length of the tongue— it had to be longer the actual creature.

The drummer acted quickly. It didn't take much brain power to figure out what that tongue was for (he had seen chameleons shoot out their tongue faster than the crack of a whip). He raised the shotgun and fired. The gun kicked and he wasn't fully prepared for the recoil. He managed to keep a hold of the gun, but it gave a serious jolt to his shoulder. He was sure he'd have a bruise there in no time.

The creature was faster than he thought. Josh was a fair distance from it, yet he was close enough to hit the thing. However, he didn't. Before the slug could find its mark, the creature leapt to the other side of the hall, scrabbling for purchase on the new surface. Josh could only stare in amazement at the hole left right where the creature's torso had been.

_He's a fast bugger, _Josh thought amazed. Quickly, he turned the shotgun back to the creature and fired again. There was only a dry click. _Shit! _He realized he had forgotten to pump in another shell. Surely this mistake would cost him his life.

The creature hissed again and shot out its tongue. Josh side-stepped the assault, but the tongue managed to cut his shirt neatly across the chest. It also managed to get a fair amount of skin, but not enough to draw blood. _That thing is sharp as a sword!_ Josh realized. He'd have to be real careful.

Pumping another round into his shotgun, he fired as the creature was opening its mouth for another assault. He fired too quickly again, causing the shot to go slightly off course (not to mention another bruise to his shoulder). The spray of bullets only managed to clip the creature's back leg. Still , Josh was happy to hear a hiss of agony emit from the creature as blood spilled from the wound.

Using the creature's moment of weakness to his advantage, Josh pumped another shot into his gun and fired. This shot managed to find its mark right on the creature's exposed brain. There was a satisfying explosion of brain matter and blood as the creature's body fell off the wall, landing with a _thud_!

Josh sighed with relief as he watched blood pour from the creature's open wound.

_What the fuck was that thing? _he thought, shaken from his recent ordeal. He fell to the floor roughly, landing painfully on his tailbone. _That was the most hideous thing I've ever seen!_

He looked down at his Metallica shirt. It was now torn right across the middle, and the bottom of it now hung loosely, suspended only by the bit of shirt that wasn't torn. _That was too close, _he realized. _Half an inch more and I'd really be feeling it._ He glanced over at the creature's limp form, and his eyes were drawn to the tongue that lay limp on the ground. Josh remarked at how much it looked like a snake. It had even coiled up defensively.

He wondered where something like this had come from. He had certainly never seen anything like it. Then again, he had never seen zombies before, nor had he seen those green demons.

_Wait a second, _Josh thought. _There were more of those green demons than just one. Same went for the zombies. That must mean there are more of these things. _He couldn't be sure if his hypothesis was correct or not, but he was somehow sure it was right. He could feel it.

As if on cue, he turned, hearing more of the rapid clicking. He turned around and saw two more of the Clickers charging towards him from down the hall. They were exactly like the thing he killed in everyway— the talons, the exposed muscles, the elongated tongue.

"Shit!" Josh cursed. He lifted the shotgun up and fired a round. Luckily for him, he was in a close-quarters hallway. Even though his shot was off by a bit, the spray managed to hit the creatures. Still, it wasn't nearly enough damage to kill them (or wound them for that matter). He would have to get closer if he wanted to do some damage, and that was something he didn't want.

Josh ran, instead. He made sure to turn away from his friends once again. _Maybe I can lose them, _he thought with hope. He ran down halls, watching the doors go by in a blur. He kept checking over his shoulder to see his pursuers, and he noticed despairingly that the creatures were keeping up with him with absolutely no problem. In fact, they might have been gaining some ground.

The Clickers let their tongues roll loose, and Josh knew what was coming up. Sure enough, the one on the left fired his tongue forward. The drummer put on a burst of extra speed and managed to dodge the tongue, yet he still felt the wind from it push against his back.

He rounded a corner and saw what might very well have been his salvation. In truth, it was nothing more than an open suite. Still, it gave Josh and idea of how to get out this mess.

Using the last of his endurance he pushed himself forward, pumping his legs faster than he ever had. He understood that he was running for his life, so run he did. He managed to get to the open door, and he slammed it shut behind him. Moments later, he could hear the sounds of furious scratches. He could also hear the fuming hisses of the Clickers behind the door.

Josh used his brief moment of respite to catch a breather. He had learned from his athletics (mostly football) that it was better to put your hands over your head than lean on your knees, so that's what he did. After his breathing was regulated a little better, he initiated the next part of his plan.

Looking around the room he found exactly what he was looking for. There was a door on the side that led into the other room. He opened his side of the door to find the other room's door shut. Unhappy with the result, but not discouraged, Josh went to work in removing the door. He was a fit young man, so it didn't cause him much trouble to shoulder into the door in an effort of breaking it down. It only took the second try for the door to come down.

Josh's momentum carried him into the next room and onto the floor. When he looked up, he saw a confused looking zombie turning around. This one was a middle-aged man. Besides the ashy skin and the empty eyes, he looked alright. He wasn't bloody and deformed like the others. Josh didn't even bother shooting this one; he just ran by it and moved for the front door. The zombie watched him go by before realizing that it was losing its prey. Then, it gave chase in its slow shuffle-steps. Josh paid it no attention. It was too far away and too slow to interfere with him.

He was already at the front door. Making sure his shotgun was loaded this time, he slowly pushed open the door and peered out into the hall. Just as he had hoped, the two Clickers were too busy clawing at the door (from the looks of it they had nearly succeeded too) to notice him. He smiled as he stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

One of the Clickers turned towards the sound and hissed. Josh had time to briefly wonder if this was a hiss of anger, joy, or maybe even a warning to its friend before he pulled the trigger. At his range, the creature's head wasn't blown apart, but it was missing a noticeable chunk. It fell to the ground limp, and as its body touched the ground, Josh pumped in another round into the shotgun.

The second Clicker turned. Instead of attacking, it tried to flee. It leapt nimbly to the other side of the hall just like its predecessor had. This time, Josh was expecting this move. He fired as it jumped, catching it in the back. The creature fell to the ground with a severed spinal cord. It began to writhe in pain on the ground, hissing furiously. Josh silenced it with another round to the head.

After the second threat had been taken care of, the drummer reloaded the gun with the shells he kept in his front pocket. After it was fully loaded, he decided it was time to go back to the others.

_I wonder if they're alright, _he thought. _What if while I was gone, more of these things came?_ The thought of his sleeping friends and the sharp talons of the Clickers sent him running down the hall back from where he came.

He had to get there fast. He had to make sure they were alright. Enough people had died already, and Josh didn't want anymore to.

xXxXx

Drew's dream wasn't particularly pleasant, but it wasn't horrible either. He was simply reliving the horrors he had fought already today. That was why he didn't particularly care when he was woken up, even if it was a little rough.

He had been running down another unnamed street, being chased by a horde of zombies when a pair of rough hands grabbed his shoulders and started shaking him. He thought it was a zombie trying to bite him, so he lashed out.

"Jesus, Drew!" a voice said to him. "Calm down. It's only me."

Drew opened his eyes and saw Josh standing over him. He was awake when Josh shook him, but just barely. However, seeing the look of panic on Josh's face was enough to snap all of his senses completely back to reality.

Josh's normally calm green eyes were wide and horror filled, and sweat poured down his face. Also, Josh's shirt had been torn almost completely across the center. He looked like he had been through hell and back.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Josh's answer was short and simple.

"We have to leave."

* * *

_A/N: Another one down. Not much to say here, but a big thank you to all those who have reviewed. I appreciate every single one of them. Good news, the next chapter will be out sooner then you think. When? I'm not for certain, but you can count on it at the end of next week by the latest. Until then. _


	15. Frantic Escape

_A/N: Before you start reading this chapter, there was something I forgot to add to the disclaimer. At any time in my fic, you may see brand names and products of real life. Obviously, I do not own these products and their respective corporations. I just use the names to make my fic seem more real. The same thing goes for any music or bands I mention (with the exception of Last Man Standing and their songs, those I made up). Just thought I'd be as clear as I can on that._

_That said, enjoy the latest installment of Last Man Standing, and don't forget to leave a review. I love to hear your thoughts._

**Chapter Fifteen— Frantic Escape**

"We have to leave."

"What?" Drew said, completely shocked. He sat up on the bed he was sleeping on. They had divided up the suite for the group. There were three bedrooms. Steve and Michael had taken one of the rooms with the two twin sized beds. Drew had taken the other room, leaving Christie with the giant, king-sized bed. "We're leaving? Why? That doesn't make any sense. I thought we were staying here as long as we could."

"Yeah," Josh nodded.

Understanding hit him then. "You mean, something's inside?"

Josh nodded grimly.

"What? Zombies? More of those green lizards?"

Josh shook his head this time. "I only wish it were zombies."

Drew gulped. It had to be bad if zombies were the least dangerous alternative. "How bad is it?"

"That's where it's difficult to say. I've never seen anything like them."The drummerpaused, as if considering. "I guess they look like ordinary people. The only thing is, they have no skin. Also, they have giant tongues twice the length of their body that they try to spear you with. Not to mention, sharp claws and teeth."

"Just perfect," Drew muttered, shaking his head glumly.

"Hold on," Josh said. "You didn't let me finish."

"Oh, really? It gets worse?"

"They can climb on the walls and ceiling too. Not to mention, they're quick. One of them managed to dodge a blast from my shotgun."

"Things just keep getting better and better, don't they?" Drew said, sighing and shaking his head.

"Do me a favor and wake the others. I'm going back into the hall to keep an eye out for them."

"I don't think you should go out there by yourself," Drew said. "We should stick together."

"Relax," Josh said, giving him the warmest smile he could muster. "I can handle myself. I've already killed three of these things." Drew watched him go with a confused look on his face. There was something wrong about the way Josh smiled right there. He couldn't place his finger on it, but it had seemed different…almost wrong.

He thought Steve might have been onto something earlier, but he dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. He could trust in Josh.

xXxXx

"No way! There's no way in hell I'm going back onto the streets!"

Drew stood there, crossing his arms and fixing Steve with a menacing glare. "You don't really have a choice. Josh says we're leaving, so we're leaving."

Drew had expected some opposition, but he hadn't expected this much. Steve's face was drawn into a grave stare, and his fists were starting to curl into fists.

The bassist had woken everyone up, just as Josh had said. No problem there. He had told Christie and Michael that it was time to leave; they asked some questions, but they both had agreed it was indeed the perfect time to leave. No problem there. Steve, on the other hand was dead-set against it.

There was the problem.

Even after Drew had explained the threat of the skinless people with long tongues, Steve still objected to leaving.

"How dowe know if there are even any left— if there were any at all, that is," he had explained earlier. "Your friend might have killed them all. It isn't like these things are exactly normal. Who's to say there's any left?"

Drew took a nervous look back at Josh. The drummer was still standing in the doorway, pointing the shotgun left and right. Occasionally, he'd look back at Drew and shoot him a nervous look that said, _What's taking so long? Hurry your ass up!_ Drew didn't like that nervous look; it made him worry just seeing how worried Josh was about these mysterious beings.

"Look, man," Drew said. "We _have_ to leave. There's no way we can stay here. If we do, we're going to be torn apart by these things."

Steve crossed his arms and sat on the ground, reminding Drew of a bratty two-year old who wants to get his way. "I'm going to stay right here. There's no way in hell I'm going back out there where we'll be swarmed by zombies."

Drew sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his brows with the thumb and pointer finger of his right hand in an effort to concentrate. Finally, he just gave up. "You know what?" he said, his voice rising. "I'm tired of trying to get you to go. I'll let someone else give it a shot." With that, he turned around and walked to the door. Josh turned to greet him.

"What's taking so long?" he asked nervously.

"That bastard Steve decided he doesn't want to go."

"Oh, really?" Josh said. "I think he's going to have a change of heart real soon. Here, take my shotgun, use it if you see any of those freaks."

Drew smiled as he watched Josh calmly approach the still sitting Steve. Things were going to get interesting, that was for certain.

"Come on, Steve," Josh said. "We have to leave."

"I already told your friend over there that I'm not leaving." He stopped, and then he turned to Christie and Michael. "We're safe in here. Why shouldn't we stay?"

"I told you," Josh said, trying to keep his patience and a level head. "We're not safe anymore. There are…things out there. Things that will kill you if you stay here."

"Yeah," Steve said, rising back up and standing at his full height. "And there's things out on the street that will kill us if we go out there."

"But we stand a better chance if we go out there," Josh said, still keeping his voice calm, despite Steve's rising anger. "We could find another place that's safe. Do you understand? We'll stand a better chance."

"A better chance?" Steve asked. He paused before his lips turned into an ugly purse. "Just like your brother stood a better chance against those things if we came here?"

At that remark, Drew winced. He had been listening to the exchange from his post at the door. So far, there had been no sight of the new enemy Josh had spoke of. _The Clickers he had called them_, Drew thought. Now, he took a second to look back at the scene behind him.

For a second, Josh didn't act. He stood there, still, not saying anything. If Drew could have seen his face from where he was standing, he would have seen the tears flowing down the drummer's face.

"You son of a bitch!" Josh spat as he raised his right hand into a fist and flung it at Steve's face. The punch connected with Steve's eye, and Drew was sure the man would have a bruise from that. He had seen his friend go to work in the circle pits when they were younger. He knew that people in there would walk away with bruises from the drummer.

Steve yowled in surprise, bringing one of his hands to his damaged eye. He gritted his teeth in anger before yelling out some sort of war cry and charging the drummer. Josh was caught off guard and was tackled to the floor of the suite. The smaller man sat on top of him, swinging his fists wildly. Josh brought up his arms to block his face in an effort to defend himself.

"What are you doing!" Christie yelled angrily. "Stop fighting! This isn't going to solve anything!"

Drew moved next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't try to stop them. Let them get it out of their system a little before." She shot him a confused look before turning back to the two fighting men. "Trust me," he continued. "This is overdue."

xXxXx

They feasted on the body of the large man. He had been dead awhile by the taste of it, but it hardly mattered to the creatures. They were hungry and they needed food. They dug into the cold, wet flesh with their claws and bit into it with their large fangs, pulling off raw chunks of meat. The creature used its long tongue to lick up the pools of blood they had spilled.

The large man proved to be a pitiful meal for both of them. There had been plenty of meat and fat, but it was rotten. They required fresh meat. Prey with blood still pumping in their veins. They both knew there was that kind of prey to be had. They had heard it. They had heard the loud _BOOMS_! that came from their prey's sticks. They had learned that sound meant food quickly. They had also learned that sound meant danger.

Since then, things had grown quiet again, but they were patient. They had to be if they were to ever find their prey.

They heard yelling now, and both of them turned their heads towards the noise. It was the sound of their prey. They had found them.

One hissed with joy and the discovery of food, and they crawled towards the sounds, using their sensitive ears to locate their prey. As they grew closer, they could discern that it was the sound of fighting.

The blood in its veins boiled, and its hunger rose. The sounds of fighting excited it. It rolled out its long tongue; drool dripping off it in thick globs.

They were close now. Soon they would have their meal.

xXxXx

"Trust me, this is overdue."

Christie bit her lip in apprehension, but she voiced no objections. Satisfied, Drew turned his attention back to the fight.

Josh was still pinned under Steve, but Drew knew it wasn't for long. Steve kept swinging his arms wildly at Josh, but he couldn't seem to break Josh's defense. Drew realized what he was doing. His friend was waiting for Steve to tire himself out a little more, and then we would fight back.

Sure enough, Josh reached up with his hands and grabbed Steve by the shirt. Surprised, the older man could do nothing as Josh pushed on him, sending him toppling. The drummer wasted no time. He moved over to Steve and as he was trying to get back onto his feet, Josh slugged him hard in the stomach. The older man doubled over in pain, and Josh waited until Steve had recovered from the hit before he punched him again, this time in the jaw.

Steve's head whipped to the side from the force of the attack, but he turned back around quickly, swinging his fist as he did so. The fist caught Josh right in the ribcage, and it was he that was doubled over this time. Unlike Josh, Steve didn't allow his foe to recover; he tackled Josh to the ground.

They rolled around, growling like wild animals.

_Think its time to split them up, _Drew said. He moved forward to separate them, but something else stopped him.

A loud hissing sound penetrated the air, and Josh stopped fighting immediately. He looked over to the front door with a petrified look on his face. With a grunt, he pushed Steve off of him and withdrew his handgun.

"Shit!" he cursed. "They're here!"

Everyone else pulled out their own guns. Drew lifted the shotgun up, resting the butt against his shoulder. There, all of them stood, eyes trained on the front door.

"What are we going to do?" Michael asked, his young voice filled with worry.

"I don't know," Drew said quietly, not wanting to attract any more attention to them. He looked over to his friend. Josh just stood there, handgun pointing forward. "What do you think, Josh?"

Josh said nothing, but by the grave lines drawn on his face Drew could tell he was in deep concentration.

"We can't do anything," Josh finally answered. "They're right outside the door. If we try to go out that way, they'll tear us apart. That's the only way out for us, the only way in for them. We just have to stay here and wait them out."

"But for how long?" Christie asked. "We can't stay here forever."

As if on cue, the first of them tried to enter the room. It fell from the ceiling, flipping itself over in mid-air and landing on all fours like a cat. Drew's eyes absorbed its horrific appearance in a matter of seconds. That was all it took to confirm Josh's description of the creature.

He saw the smooth, pink muscle, the sharp talons, the teeth, the exposed brain, but most importantly, he saw the tongue. It was glistening in the light of the hall, writhing around like a long pink snake.

No sooner had the creature touched the ground, the group began firing into it. A salvo of hot lead tore into the creature. The shotgun bucked in Drew's hand as he pulled the trigger. Unlike Josh, he kept it positioned right, saving his shoulder from the bruises. The tiny handgun shots from the others rippled across its muscular body, causing it to shriek in pain as blood spilled from it in streams. The shotgun blast hit in right on the exposed brain, destroying the top half of its head and silencing its cries of pain. It fell to the ground, issuing a quick death spasm before lying completely still.

"Holy shit!" Steve exclaimed as he stared at the dead creature, his bout with Josh completely forgotten. "What was that thing!"

"The thing I warned you about," Josh said sternly.

"Do you think it was the last of them?" Drew asked, his voice notably shaken. He had never been expecting something so unnatural, and his brief encounter with it had shaken him deeply. _That thing looked like it came straight from Hell, _he thought.

"Hard to say for sure," Josh answered. "The first one I fought was by itself, but the others came in a pair. Who knows if this one has a partner or not."

"So how in the hell are we supposed to know if there's another out there?" Steve asked, his voice much more shaken than Drew's.

"That's the problem," Josh said, sighing deeply. "We don't."

"So we're just going to stay here and wait for them to charge us!" Steve asked, his voice filling with panic.

Josh's voice started to rise in anger again, and Drew didn't blame him. He knew the drummer was thinking of a way to get them out, and that task was made all the more difficult with Steve panicking. "That's what I'm thinking about," Josh retorted. "Unless of course, you want to go out there and see if the coast is clear for yourself?"

"I have an idea," Christie said suddenly. All eyes turned to her at once. "What if we used a mirror or something reflective to see if they're hiding around the corner?"

"That just might work," Drew agreed. "But what would we use?"

"You still have that meat cleaver on you, Christie?" Josh asked suddenly.

"Yeah." she answered as she pulled it out from where she had it safely tucked in her waistband. "Thought I might keep it in case my gun ran out of ammo."

"Good thing you did."

Josh grabbed it and moved over to the kitchen sink, washing the blood off of its metallic surface. Satisfied with the job, he walked back to the front door. "Cover me," he said. "I'm going to have to get close to the door, and they have some long tongues."

Drew nodded determinedly. "Gotcha covered."

Josh took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he was about to do. He flashed everyone a weak smile before walking forward. "Here goes nothing."

Cautiously and very slowly, Josh tiptoed forward. He managed to get to the doorway safely. Quickly, he planted his back against the wall to the side of the door. Very slowly, he positioned the cleaver in the doorway, turning it this way and that way. The light reflected off of it, making the cleaver shine like brand new.

Josh offered another smile— this one much more joyful— and returned to the group. Drew breathed with relief when Josh was clear of the doorway. He hadn't realized it then, but he had been holding his breath when Josh was near the door. Now that his friend was clear of immediate danger, his breath returned to normal.

"Looks safe as of now," Josh said. "Looks like our friend came alone. Still, we don't know how much longer it's going to be this way, so we should leave now." Everyone nodded along, and Josh paused, taking the time to turn to Steve. "No arguments?"

Steve shook his head sullenly, looking slightly ashamed, yet he didn't say anything.

"Good, lets move then."

Josh and Drew led the way, taking the first step into the hopefully empty hall. Drew turned left, pointing his shotgun down the empty expanse of the hallway; Josh turned the opposite way. "Anything?" Drew asked, still not taking his eyes off the hallway.

"Nope," Josh answered. "All clear. You guys can come out of the room now."

They did so, but they still looked warily about, Drew didn't blame them.

"Hey, Steve," Josh called out. "Got a question for you."

"Uh, yeah?"

"Do you still have that magnum?"

At this question, Steve's face turned an embarrassed shade of red. "Uh, no. I…uh…dropped it."

Josh looked at him questionably, but did not push the matter further. "But you still have the ammo, right?"

"Yeah," he answered, digging into his pocket and pulling out a handful of bullets. "I'm not sure, but I think there's twelve of them here."

"Mind if I use them? Mine is out of bullets from when we fought those green demons." Josh paused after saying this, recalling who had died at that fight, but he shook it off of him.

"Feel free," Steve said, dumping the ammo into Josh's waiting hands. "Hopefully, they'll work for your gun."

Josh was hoping the same thing. After reloading his magnum, he was satisfied that the bullets would indeed work. "Now that that's taken care of, we can leave."

"But where are we going?" Michael asked.

"I saw on our way inside that our tour bus is still parked out in the parking lot," Josh said. "If we can get on it and get it running, it should be able to take us out of the city."

Drew nodded his head. "That's a good plan. With the windows raised how they are, I don't think the zombies will be able to reach us. We'd actually be safe."

"Yeah," Josh said with a slight smile. "That's the plan." He then turned his attention to Christie. "Alright, since you work here, what's the fastest way to the parking lot?"

The waitress stopped and took a moment to think. "If we head downstairs, there's an entrance in the back— right past the swimming pool and the exercise equipment. That's the fastest route."

"Alright, let's go."

Suddenly, there was a shriek that echoed through the hall, a shriek that was all too familiar to Drew. "We'd better hurry," he said. "Sounds like more are on the way." Sure enough, two more turned around the corner Drew was facing. He fired a shot wildly in their direction, but it hit nothing. "Go! Go! Go!" he ushered.

Josh led them down the hall, and Drew took up the back, turning every once and awhile to take a shot at their pursuers. They were fast, and they were gaining ground.

"We're not going to make it to the elevator!" Christie called out over the roar of the gunfire.

"The stairs! The stairs!" Josh called.

They ran down the hall, and as they ran, Drew could hear more shrieks and hisses. The Clickers were gaining in number.

Drew stopped and turned, taking the time to line up his shot. He could see the two that had started chasing them, and behind them, he could see a few more joining the hunt. Drew waited half a second and fired. One of the front Clickers took the shot right in the back, falling to the ground, quaking in a death spasm. Drew had no time to celebrate; he turned and followed his companions quickly, sprinting to catch up.

They made it to the stairs, and Josh stood there, holding the door open and ushering the others in quickly. Drew sprinted quickly and made it to the door. Josh shut it behind them, but he didn't follow.

"What are you doing?" Drew yelled at him through the door. There was a tiny window set in the door, and he could see his friend's features through it.

"Go on! I'm going to try to distract them!" Josh yelled through the pane. "I'll meet you out back!"

"You better!" Drew called back as his friend's face disappeared. He saw the Clickers pass by, and he prayed for his friend's safety.

Suddenly, there was a face in front of the windowpane, but it was not a human face. With only a pane of glass separating them, Drew was staring face-to-face with one of the Clickers. It was from this vantage point that he noticed something he never noticed before: the Clicker had no eyes. There was only more of that pink muscle where its eye sockets should have been. Drew pondered how it could chase them and find them so effectively without seeing them. Before he could think of an answer the creature slapped its wet, saliva-covered tongue against the window, covering it with thick goop. Without a word, Drew pulled out his own magnum and pointed it at the glass.

_BANG!_

The glass exploded, as did the head of the Clicker.

He turned to see the others staring quizzically at him. "Go!" Drew yelled. "We have to get to the bus!"

"What about Josh?" Michael asked.

Drew offered a smile. "He'll be fine, but I don't want him to beat us there. He'll hold it over my head forever."

xXxXx

Josh pumped his arms and legs. _What was I thinking? _he thought to himself. He looked back at his pursuers and saw a tongue shooting forward, aimed at his feet. Using his reflexes, he leapt deftly above the attack. _Why would I distract these things? They're going to tear me apart._

Then he thought of his brother. Zack had done the same thing. Zack had known it was better to sacrifice one for many, and it was this realization that fueled Josh's energy. He ran faster.

He turned the corner and saw the elevator. Putting on extra speed, he managed to make it there and push the CALL button. He looked behind him and saw the Clickers were getting closer.

"Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, hurry up," he said quickly. He pointed his magnum at the Clickers, trying to keep them at bay.

His first shot sailed wide, managing to hit nothing but green plaster. His second shot was a little better, managing to catch one of the Clickers in the legs, sending it to the floor in pain. His third shot clipped the side of another's brain, killing it quickly. He killed two more with the rest of his shots.

He was relieved to hear the _ding_! of the arriving elevator. Quickly, he stepped into it, pressing the button to close the door furiously.

He expected the door to start to close, only to be stopped by the horde of Clickers chasing him. From there, he would be trapped, primed for slaughter. Luckily, the door slid shut without any interference. However, as soon as it was closed, he could hear furious hissing and something (or more like _somethings_) began to claw at the metal door. Wasting no time, Josh punched the button for the lobby.

As the elevator descended, he decided it was time to reload his weapon. Reaching into his pocket he brought out a handful of bullets. _Six left, _he thought. _Only six left. _

His trembling fingers made it hard to load the gun, and the first couple of bullets fell to the ground. He cursed himself and made himself calm down, letting him pop in the other four bullets. He reached down for the two that had fallen and popped them back in too. He snapped the gun shut and spun the revolver around, feeling better already.

His friends were safe. He had bought them enough time to make it to the lobby, he was sure of it. To make sure, he looked out the tempered glass of the elevator. Sure enough, he saw four small figures running across the lobby. They disappeared under him, and he understood that was where the back exit was.

Suddenly, there was a figure shading his view. He brought his gaze up and saw one of the Clickers clinging to the glass. It traced its tongue around the glass, as if trying to taste Josh, spreading drool in thick globs.

"Son of a bitch!"

_Crack_!

It punched the glass with one of its talons, sending cracks out like spider webs. Determined to get in, it clawed again.

_Shit! _Josh thought, moving as far away from the creature as he could. _It isn't going to take long for him to get in!_

He raised his gun to fire, but before he could do so, the Clicker disappeared. It had crawled up and out of his view. It wasn't until moments later that he realized what it was doing.

From above, came the rip of metal, and he could see the putrid thing's claws shredding through the metal as easily as scissors through paper. Panicking, Josh looked at the floor display. He was at the third floor now. _Just a little further, _he urged. He looked back up at the ceiling, hoping it would outlast the creature.

He had no luck there.

By the second floor, there was a small hole in the ceiling. The creature peered through it in search of its prey. Josh moved as far away from the hole as he could, placing himself in the corner. As of now, the hole wasn't big enough for the creature's whole body, but it was just big enough for the creature's head.

The elevator landed on the firm ground of the first floor. The Clicker poked its head through the hole just as the doors were sliding open. Josh raised the magnum and fired a shot, but it missed, hitting the metal just to the side of the creature's head instead. It hissed angrily at him and shot out its tongue.

Josh made a move for the door, opting to leave the creature behind while he reunited with his friends, but the Clicker had other plans. Just as he was moving out of the elevator, something wrapped around his ankles. He tripped, and his gun went out of his hand, sliding across the floor.

"Jesus!" Josh cried out in pain. Whatever had his leg wrapped up burned like a son of a bitch. He looked back, but he already knew what had him wrapped up. Sure enough, the tongue of the creature had caught him, and now it was trying to drag him back.

"Don't think so," Josh said, gritting his teeth in pain. The tongue was indeed sharp, but it also burned. The saliva on it seemed almost acidic and he was sure it was toxic. It had to be for it to burn like this.

One time in Chemistry, Josh had been unfortunate enough to accidentally spill a few drops of one of the chemicals on his arm. It had burned much like this did, searing the flesh with unimaginable heat.

He tried to get back to his feet, but the creature pulled him back down, dragging him towards it. Desperate, Josh reached out with both hands and managed to get a hold of the outside of the elevator. It was the only place he could get a reasonable grip.

Gritting his teeth, he used all of his arm strength to pull himself forward. His ankle cried in protest from being pulled in two different directions, but he didn't give in. The creature hissed angrily and started dragging him back. He could feel his grip slipping; he couldn't hold on much longer. After that, he would be pulled into the waiting maw of the Clicker, doomed.

He couldn't let that happen.

Quickly, he reached for the cleaver he had kept from Christie. The creature pulled harder after realizing that Josh was only holding on by one hand. As his hand gripped the wooden handle, his hand holding onto the elevator slid off. He was pulled towards the Clicker, which hissed in victory at winning the tug-of-war.

_Yeah, _Josh thought smiling as he pulled out the cleaver. _Enjoy your victory. _He felt the ground leave him, and he briefly realized that he was now in the air before he swung the cleaver with all of his strength. The Clicker shrieked in anguish as the tongue was severed in two.

Josh landed with a thud on the elevator floor, knocking the wind out of his lungs, but he crawled away. He looked back up to see the creature leaving; the portion of tongue that had clung to Josh's legs lay in a pool of blood and goop, writhing about. He smiled in victory before turning and running, taking just enough time to pick up the magnum lying on the ground.

He sprinted down the hall, ignoring the burning pain in his ankle. He looked to his right and saw the door leading to the pool.

"_It's past the swimming pool and the exercise equipment," _Christie's voice echoed in his head. He passed both and came to a corner. Turning around it, he saw the exit. Behind him, he heard more howls and shrieks from the Clickers. They had picked up his trail, but by the sound of it, they were still far behind.

Not wanting to take any chances, Josh sprinted for the exit.

He pushed the door open and was back out in the cool air. The night was slowly dissipating as the sun woke up from its own slumber. Daybreak was starting, and Josh thanked the heavens he had lived through a night of the horror.

He stopped running, catching his breath as he looked for the tour bus. It was gone.

"Son of a…" Josh cursed. He ran his hands through his hair, exasperated.

Had they really gone? Had they really just abandoned him?

_Wouldn't be the first time, _a sinister voice spoke up in his head. _They abandoned Zack too. They also abandon those that mean to save them._

Josh wanted to push the voice away, but he found he couldn't. He agreed with it after all.

_BEEP! BEEP!_

Josh turned to the sound of the horn and was happy to see the tour bus pulling up close to him. _They must have been circling the parking lot searching for me, _Josh thought.

The bus pulled up and the doors opened. He looked up the stairs to see Steve sitting behind the wheel. "Want a ride?" the man said, offering a small smile.

"Damn straight," Josh answered as he stepped on the bus. The doors gave a clear _whoosh_! as Steve closed them behind Josh.

The others sat around the table him and the rest of the band had once sat at eating breakfast, discussing their plans for once the tour ended. That moment (like so many others) seemed to have happened eons ago. Had it really been just last morning that he had sat there? Josh had trouble believing it even though he knew for a fact it was so.

Drew sat up and moved forward, extending his arms as if ready to embrace for a hug. Josh spread his arms wide as well, but when he did so, Drew swung his fist at Josh's exposed chest.

"Why did you do that?" Josh asked, gritting his teeth as he rubbed his chest.

"Why did _you _do that!" Drew shot back. "Why did you risk your life like that!"

"I just wanted to make sure you guys got here safely."

"Don't do that again!" Drew scolded, poking Josh in the chest (in the same spot he had punched him too) for extra emphasis. "We don't need people playing the damn hero and getting themselves killed. Got it?

"Sorry, sorry," Josh said, holding his hands up in front of him. He looked out the window and saw something familiar. "Stop the bus! Stop the bus!"

"What? Why?" Steve asked, bewildered.

"Just stop the damn bus, will ya? And open the doors while you're at it."

The doors slid open, and Josh was bounding out quickly. He sprinted across the cemented drive and onto the dewy grass.

At the side of the building, he could see the entrance to the kitchen, and near that, he could see several bodies strewn about the green grass. He ran through, not even pausing to take in the details. All of these bodies belonged to the green devils, but there was one body he was looking for specifically. He found it, slumped up against the wall.

"Zack," he said breathlessly, tears had started flowing down his eyes, but these didn't sting. In fact, these were relieving. Kinda like a glass of water when one is extremely parched. It seemed like this was overdue.

His brother lay against the wall, eyes closed, looking entirely peaceful, entirely at rest. The grass around him was stand red by the blood, and Josh saw the deep crimson slashes across his brother's side and the bite mark deep in the joint where his shoulder met his neck that had caused the stains. The shotgun lay abandoned next to his side, and in his hand he loosely held his handgun. "Zack," Josh said again quietly, nothing more than a whisper really. He reached into his brother's coat pockets and pulled out the ammo his brother had withheld and dumped them into his own pockets. Then he reached forward and took the combat jacket off of his brother's prone form. It took a bit of work, but he finally managed to get it off. He placed it over his brother's tranquil face just like they had placed the sheet over Terry.

"Rest easy, pal." As he said this, the lyrics to the song he had written in the hotel hallways came back, and he sang them sweetly. After he finished with what he had written he grabbed the shotgun and the handgun and left. He left his brother in his peaceful slumber.

When he looked back at the bus, Drew was leaning against it, arms crossed. "You take care of what you had to do?" he asked.

Josh nodded, wiping the tears from his face. "Yeah, I took care of it." He walked up the steps, and Drew followed. Halfway up, Josh stopped and turned back to his friend. "You know," he said. "He still looked good. And from the looks of it, he managed to take down every last one of those bastards."

Drew looked at his friend and offered him a look that said, _duh!._

"What did you expect?" the bassist said with a smirk.


	16. Back on the Streets

**Chapter Sixteen— Back on the Streets**

"Holy shit! What are we supposed to do? They've surrounded the bus!"

"Relax, relax," Josh said, moving up to the front of the bus with Steve. He placed a comforting hand on the man's shoulders and peered out the front window. Sure enough, zombies had swarmed the bus. The crowd of the undead clamored at the bus, but they could do nothing against it. They were powerless; the windows stood well out of their reach. "They can't get to us in here. Just drive real slow, and whatever you do, don't stop."

Steve gulped and gripped the wheel tighter with his white knuckles. _I can do this, _he thought. _I can do this. _He repeated the mantra in his head, and to his surprise, it actually worked. He could feel his heart slow its frantic beating, and he started to feel more relaxed.

He kept his eyes forward on the road, trying to keep them off the horde of undead that had flocked to the front of the bus. He couldn't do it.

Every few seconds, his eyes would flicker down and he would end up staring into the deformed face of someone who seemed so familiar. Unlike the band members he had been running with for the past hours, he lived in Raccoon City. He had moved here a few years ago after the divorce, so he knew some of the people.

Sure he didn't know them all (that was nearly impossible), but he knew enough to worry about their safety in this critical time. Also, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that he knew every one of these people, that he had seen them before. Behind every dull eye of a zombie, he saw something familiar. Perhaps it was a hint of their former soul, or maybe it was just some vague recollection on his own part. He must have seen these people before— maybe when he walked the sidewalks, drove to work, went to the grocery store. After all, this was his city! He knew these people!

The zombies clawed furiously at the front of the bus, desperate to reach the survivors inside, but their efforts were futile. A thin, desperate smile crossed Steve's lips. _Safe and sound._ A frail looking woman with fiery red hair was unfortunate enough to get pulled under the bus, and the bus slowly rolled over her, lifting into the air on that side for just a second. Steve shuddered at the thought of what that woman might look like after the bus was done with her.

He could see that the crowd of zombies was thinning out. Soon they would be in the clear, wide-open streets before them. His eyes scanned the crowd of zombies, staring into their blank eyes.

_I wonder what they are thinking? _he thought with true curiosity. _Are zombies really that brain-dead that they don't feel anything? Is that possible?_

He watched as the last of the crowd passed the tour bus, and he gently stepped on the gas. The tour bus picked up its speed, managing to put a fair distance between them and their pursuers.

"Good work," Josh said, clapping his hands on Steve's shoulder again. "Now where are we heading?"

Steve looked up at him confused. _Is he really asking me for my opinion? _"Why are you asking?" he said. "Don't you know?"

"I don't live in Raccoon City," Josh answered straightforwardly. "I have no idea where these streets will lead. You live here, don't you?"

"Yeah."  
"So lead us on. Just take the fastest route to someplace we can get out of here. I don't know about you, but I want to put as many miles between this city and me as we can possibly get. And the faster we do that, the happier I am." Josh offered a smile.

"Gotcha," Steve answered with a small smile of his own. "I can handle that."

Josh gave a nod and walked back towards the end of the bus. Steve shook his head slowly, not believing what had just taken place. _How can he treat me so nicely after we fought like that in the hotel? _Steve brought his right hand up to his right eye, feeling the tender, puffy skin that had swollen from the hit he had taken. _What caused the turnaround?_ He could never truly know the answer, so he decided to drop the matter and try to forget he had ever fought with the man (difficult to do so with the black eye).

The group pressed on, making slow progress.

xXxXx

"Are you kidding? Another one!"

"Yeah," Steve said sullenly. He lay across the steering wheel, dejected and exhausted, gesturing towards a pileup of cars in the center of the street. "Another roadblock."

"Damn!" Drew cursed. "That makes like the fifth one."

"Seventh," Michael grumbled, holding out his hands with seven fingers displayed for extra emphasis. "I've been counting."

"Guess we just have to turn around," Josh said, sighing deeply. "It's not like we can get around that."

Steve shifted the massive van into reverse and began pulling back— a difficult job with only the side mirrors to guide you. Eventually, he found another intersection that he used to turn the bus around.

"Where now?"

In truth, Steve had no idea. He had hoped to get to the freeway and use that as a means of escape, but now that he thought about it, if cars were getting piled up here, things were most certainly worse on the highway. There would be no way for him to maneuver the bus on the highway. It would be a fruitless effort.

The only other option in his mind was to try to make it to the outskirts of the city. That would mean navigating the streets and finding ways around pileups and blockades that plagued the streets. Not an impossible task. Long and difficult though, that was a different story altogether.

_And it's not going to get done with you parked in the middle of an intersection, _Steve thought. He put the bus in gear and drove on, hoping they wouldn't come across any more blockades.

He peered out the front window at the streets. Things seemed to have settled down somewhat, morphing from utter chaos to a stagnate silence. Steve thought he preferred the former over the second.

The city lay in shambles of its former self. Bodies and other bits of gore littered the ground, storefronts were shattered and broken, the streets and sidewalks were littered with trash and debris, and worse of all, not a single human soul roamed the streets. Through all of the horror and bloodshed Steve had endured, he (like many of the others) had clung to the hope that he wasn't the only one alive. Now, seeing the evidence lain out before him, he questioned that statement.

He turned right, hoping the street would be clear of any debris. "Best cross your fingers," he called out to the others. He looked back at them, hoping to see some sort of encouragement from them. The others only gave a brief, sullen look before turning away. Steve frowned and looked back at the road.

"Holy shit!" he yelled, stamping down on the brake with two feet. Caught in the headlights of the bus was a group of what appeared to be soldiers. They carried a civilian with them.

_SCREECH!_

The tires objected to the rapid stop, but the bus did stop before it could even come close to hitting the group of soldiers. Luckily, he hadn't been going that fast to begin with, or they could have all been killed. The soldiers, that is.

Steve, without thinking, poked his head out the side window. "Watch it!" he yelled at the strangers. "I nearly ran you over!"

"We need your help!" one of the soldiers yelled. He had spiky black hair. "We're being chased by these things!" He gestured towards the alley he had miraculously seemed to have sprung from.

"Quick!" Josh yelled from the back of the bus. "Let them on! Then we can get out of here too!"

Steve didn't need anyone telling him what to do; he was already opening the door.

The four soldiers pointed their back at the bus and held their weapons out, aiming at the alley they had just come from. Steve realized they were setting up a defense.

The civilian was the first to get ushered on. Steve noticed she was really pretty. She had long chestnut colored hair that reached almost to her mid back. She wore a black tank top and jean shorts that displayed her figure. She looked up at Steve with brown, afraid eyes. "Thank you," she said breathlessly.

She was followed by the youngest looking soldier of them all, an African-American. He seemed to be the exact same size as Josh, but this fellow was a little more muscular. Just a little.

The next to step on the bus was much larger, however. He was roughly the same height as the guy before him, but he was much bulkier. The guy seemed to be made of muscle, and he reminded Steve quite a bit of Terry. His long black hair was in a tangle array. His face was set in grim resolve, making him look all the more intimidating. Steve actually scooted away from the large man as he stepped on.

Quickly following his footsteps was a Latino. He was short and stocky. His face lit up with a sort of wonder when he looked at the others on the bus, reminding Steve of a child in a toy factory. "No fucking way!" he said, a smile forming on his lips. "Out of all the people in the city, I manage to find the bus of fucking Last Man Standing! I can't believe it!"

Josh and Drew turned to each other, giving each other curious smiles at the man's antics.

"Yeah, that's wonderful," the last soldier said as he climbed the steps of the bus. "But in case you forgot, we've got bigger problems on our hands." He pointed a thumb back at the alley, and Steve could see shadows moving in there. He could hear noises too, familiar screeches and growls.

That was when things went to hell. It happened so fast, Steve couldn't keep up with it. One moment things were fine, the next, utter pandemonium.

There was a loud _thud_! as something landed on the hood of the bus. Steve turned and saw it. It was one of the lizard men. It stared at him quizzically through the glass pane right before it reared back, uttering the terrible screech Steve was all to familiar with. Then, it brought one of its claws to the windshield. The pane managed to hold together, yet it was cracked from the blow.

Behind him, Steve could hear someone screaming, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out who it was. He also heard some gunfire, yet he didn't pay any attention to it. His eyes were locked with the demon's. The yellow irises and the black pupils entranced him. The creature returned his gaze, seeming to hypnotize Steve.

_I've never seen it this close before, _Steve thought. It was like he was a kid again, visiting the zoo, amazed that such wonderful creatures actually existed and that he could get so close to them.

The creature opened its maw slowly, displaying its teeth in a vicious array that nearly resembled a smile. Steve could see the pink tongue wiggling slightly in the creature's jaws and the saliva that dribbled down the fangs. He was so close he could see each individual scale set across the creature's skin in an intricate pattern, shimmering from the sun that was still poking its head across the horizon.

Then it struck again, managing to put in more cracks, snapping Steve out of his trance. He gunned it.

xXxXx

Josh watched the soldiers get on the bus with interest, but what caught his interest more were the shadows in the alley. He saw them moving swiftly, twisting, stirring as if they were a singular creature. He saw the gleam of yellow eyes in the shadows before he saw the thing that leapt on the bus hood. He didn't need to see the later to know what was there; he would remember those eyes for the rest of his life.

_The bastards are back! _Josh thought, standing up and drawing his handgun as he did so. Anger mixed with adrenaline pumped through his veins as he remembered the blood that spilled from his brother's wound.

He could have his revenge now. That was the only thought that played through his mind. He could have his revenge.

He saw the creature land on the hood and aimed his gun at its disgusting head. He aimed for the eyes, dead set on erasing the hideous feature from the creature's face. Before he could fire, he heard the sound of glass shattering and the sound of Christie's shrieks.

Josh turned to the noise and saw one of the demons clinging to the side of the bus. It had managed to punch through the glass, and it was reaching one of its claws to the group.

Josh raised the handgun and fired twice. He was happy to see one of the shots pierce through the creature's eye, causing it to screech in pain. The other shot tore into its mouth, managing to pull back part of the cheek and exposing more teeth and muscle. The creature fell off the bus and out of Josh's view, but he could still hear the sound of its pained cries.

_THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!_

Josh's eyes scanned up, and he realized they were on the roof now. One of the soldiers brought up a small machinegun and peppered the ceiling with it. There was another satisfying cry of pain.

Josh raised his gun to the ceiling and prepared to fire. Before he could pull the trigger, the bus roared to life and took off. Josh heard the tires squeal as the bus accelerated quickly. The sudden shift of momentum caught Josh off guard, sending him to the floor.

"Jesus Christ, Steve!" he yelled over the roar of the motor and the gunfire. "Give us a damn warning first!"

Josh stood back up, looking around. He couldn't see any of the lizard men. He breathed a sigh of relief, yet his hands also curled angrily into fists. He was still angry at the creatures that had claimed his brother's life, and his revenge wasn't complete. Not yet. One of them didn't balance out to Zack's life. That was a scale that he thought would never be balanced.

As it turned out, Josh would get his wish for revenge.

"Where those the things you were talking about earlier?" Christie blurted out, pacing the ceiling with frantic eyes.

"Yeah," Drew answered solemnly. He kept his eyes on the windows, but his shotgun was pointing down.

"The Screechers," Michael added. Josh agreed with the boy. The name certainly did fit with the creature. He thought back to the sound the creature's had made as they chased the group up the hill and towards the hotel. Screecher definitely fit.

Josh turned to the soldiers who were still grouped together at the front of the bus. "Those things were after you, huh?"

"Yeah," the one with spiky black hair answered. Josh figured he was the leader with the way he commanded himself and the way the others looked at him. "Name's Winn. I'm the commander of this squadron." He jerked his thumb back at the tall, bulky man with slicked back black hair. "That's Miller, the second in command." The man uttered a gruff hello before turning his attention back to the streets.

Next, Winn gestured to the black man. "That's Scott." The man gave a shaky smile as he was introduced, but said nothing else. "And finally there's Matose," the leader continued. The Latino man stepped forward and briskly grabbed Josh's hands.

"Forget about my last name," he said excitedly. "Just call me Rob."

Josh offered a surprised smile back at the man. "That's fine, just call me Josh."

"Hell yeah! I know who you are. You're the drummer for the greatest band ever, Last Man Standing."

"So you're a fan, huh?"

"You fuckin know it," he said, beaming proudly. "I was at you show when this shit hit the fan. Wish you guys could have finished before all that happened. It was going to be a hell of a show, wasn't it?"

At the reminder of the concert, Josh's face grew much more solemn. There were too many bad memories there. "Yeah, yeah it would have been," he said quietly.

_CRASH!_

The two's conversation was interrupted by the sound of breaking glass. Josh turned to see one of the green devils standing in the middle of the tour bus. It had its back turned towards Josh and the soldiers, keeping its attention on Drew, Christie, Michael, and the girl that had yet to be identified. It screeched, rearing back. Josh recognized this, and he knew what the creature was going to do. It was going to leap at them.

Josh raised his handgun prepared to fire at the Screecher, but there was a resounding _boom_! as Drew fired his shotgun. The creature seemed to take flight into the air, soaring backwards and onto the ground, landing just a few feet away from Josh. Winn raised his handgun and fired three times into the creature's chest, ending its life.

"They're back," Winn barked to his men. As if to reinforce the man's words, Josh heard several more _thumps_! of bodies landing on the ceiling. "Be ready!"

"Try to ditch them!" Drew yelled to Steve. "They can't hold on forever!"

Josh heard the sound of tearing metal above, and he looked. Directly above him he could see the yellow slitted eyes of one of the Screechers peering through a small hole torn into the ceiling. Josh raised his gun and fired through the opening, but the creature ducked out of sight. Moments later, there was more ripping metal, and Josh could see the ceiling being peeled away.

"They're trying to get in through the top!" he yelled to the others.

Immediately, the soldier's brought their attention to the ceiling. "Let them come," Rob spat. "I'll show these fuckers whose boss!"

_Crash! _Josh heard the sound of breaking glass and turnedOne of the creatures hung onto the side of the bus for dear life, trying to punch its way through the glass as it did so. Josh raised his handgun and fired. The pistol rang three times, and Josh saw three crimson dots emerge on the creature's scaly skin. The glass shattered, but the creature managed to hang on. It shrieked joyfully as it realized there was nothing separating it from its prey now.

Before it could enter, however, several more powerful shots pierced its flesh. Standing next to Josh was the large soldier that had been identified as Miller. He pointed a rather large handgun at the empty window. He gave a quick, half-smile to the drummer before turning his attention to another window.

"Shit!" Josh heard Steve scream from the front. Suddenly, the earth beneath Josh's feet seemed to disappear and he was flying, flying towards the front of the bus. He landed roughly on his back and something else landed on top of him, something cold and scaly.

It only took Josh a second to realize what mass was on top of him. _Oh God no! _he thought pushing out with his hands. The creature lay on its back on top of him, kicking and clawing out in an attempt to stand. Luckily for Josh, the creature seemed to have forgotten about (or simply didn't realize) that it was on top of the drummer. He placed both of his hands on the rough scaly back of the creature and shoved roughly, turning himself away as he did.

He managed to slide out of harm's way and stood breathlessly to the side, watching the creature try to get back up. He never gave it a chance. _For Zack_, he thought as he fired his handgun into the creature's face. Two shots, and the creature lay still on the ground.

"What the hell is going on!" Winn asked, holding onto the side for support.

"Roadblock!" was Steve's answer.

Josh turned, looking out the front window. It was true. Blocking the road was a massive congestion of random cars and trucks that had been abandoned by their previous owners. On foot, the group would have had minimal trouble traversing the network of automobiles, but on the bus, there wasn't a way in hell.

The creatures used this moment of weakness for their advantage. More leapt onto the bus, gaining hold. They were now completely surrounded.

The air filled with the sound of breaking glass, tearing metal, inhuman screeches, and gunshots.

"Back up!" Josh yelled, cupping his hands together

"Yeah!" Rob yelled, moving next to the drummer. "Back the fuck up! We gotta get movin!"

Hastily, Steve complied. He threw the bus in reverse and put his foot on the gas. Josh briefly wondered how Steve would steer the bus without looking through a rear window but dismissed the thought as he heard more breaking glass.

He turned, firing quickly. The Screecher trying to pull itself into the window shook violently as bullets riddled its green flesh and fell backwards onto the streets with a squeal of surprise. Josh glanced to his side, looking down to the back of the bus. There was limited firing space, but everyone seemed to be handling themselves just fine.

Josh's eyes glanced over to the seat behind the table he had sat at just prior to picking up the soldiers. Resting peacefully— something that seemed impossible in the current, chaotic state— on the seat was his shotgun, something that would prove much more useful in their situation than his handgun. He could use the revolver like he had during his last encounter with these creatures, but the only ammo he had for it was what was left in the gun. He tried to remember how much he still had in it, but he found that he couldn't.

He moved slowly, turning this way and that, trying to keep his eyes on all three hundred and sixty degrees at once. Plenty of the windows had been blown open from the rushing creatures, making it too easy for one of them to get in.

Two of the soldiers, Miller and Scott if he remembered correctly (he had trouble thinking with all the noise going on) stood back to back, plugging away at any creatures attempting to climb in the side windows. He pushed into them lightly and slid between them, letting them continue their fight against the abominations.

As he passed the soldiers, Josh glanced over at the table. He was clear to grab the shotgun. As he reached for it, the glass next to him shattered, spraying shards of glass. One of the larger projectiles slashed across his bicep, but in Josh's adrenaline induced state, he hardly felt it.

Coming through the area the glass had previously covered was a reptilian face, teeth bared. _This is it, _Josh thought, bringing his hands up in front of him as a makeshift shield (it wasn't much, but it was the best he could do). _It's going to get me just like it got Zack._

_BANG! BANG!_

Josh winced at the sound of the gunshots, but he slowly opened his eyes. The Screecher's head lay on the table with the rest of its lower body hanging out the window. The bus jostled slightly and the body fell slid out the window, leaving only a pool of blood that was starting to drip off the sides of the table and onto the seats.

Josh looked over to see the commander of the army squadron giving a small smirk behind the handgun he was pointing. The drummer nodded his thanks as he grabbed the shotgun that had nearly cost him his life. _I'm going to have to thank him later, _Josh thought. _That was way too close. If he hadn't been there, I would have…_

Josh pushed the thoughts away. It would do no good to dwell on how close his last encounter had been, lest he ended up repeating his mistakes.

The shotgun's added weight felt good in Josh's hands. It made him feel much more powerful, much stronger, more in control.

Another of the reptile-men fell in through a hole created by a predecessor. Josh raised the gun quickly and fired a slug right into the creature's chest. It squealed in pain as it fell onto its back writhing. Josh moved in for the kill, giving it another shot to set it still.

Quickly, he checked his surroundings. He was just past the kitchen, almost in the bunk area of the bus. That part of the hall was where things got the most cramped. There was hardly any room for two people across the slim hallway. Right now, the hallway was empty, but Josh wondered for how long.

He glanced back, looking at the largest area of the bus, the kitchen area. Only a small portion was divided into a kitchen, while the rest was mostly space for the band to lounge around in. There most of the others were making their stand.

Josh saw Drew swing the butt end of his shotgun at a Screecher poking its end through one of the many shattered windows. The large soldier had swung out his shotgun as well and aimed the gun at the ceiling, making sure nothing dropped in. The Latino soldier aimed an Uzi at the window, sending large bursts of ammos into anything that tried to make its way in. Josh was amused to see him halt his shooting for a second to light up a cigarette.

The two other soldiers, Winn and the African American, were up next to Steve. Winn was trying to yell something to the panicking Steve while shooting at one of the demons who was trying to climb up from the stairs. It almost reached the top before the soldier kicked at it and sent it rolling back down. He finished the creature off with a burst from a compact looking machinegun.

Josh was also surprised to see Christie holding her own as well. She stood off to the side, taking a few shots every now and then to provide some back up fire. Her face drawn into concentration and Josh could see the determination in her eyes.

As the drummer mentally counted heads, he noticed two were missing, the civilian Winn had brought with him and Michael. Josh turned quickly, trying to catch sight of either of them. They were nowhere to be seen.

Josh turned back around and looked towards the end of the hall. There was a door set at the very end, and Josh knew it lead to another small lounge area. He took one hasty glance back at the carnage taking place at the front of the bus and moved on. He had to find them and make sure they were all right.

"Michael!" he called out as he moved down the hall. He checked the bunks to make sure the kid wasn't hiding in one of them. Still no sign of him. That only left one more place.

Josh stood in front of the door to the lounge area. Cautiously, he reached out with one hand and turned the doorknob slowly. As he cracked it open, he called out. "Michael, are you in here?" Josh didn't want to get shot by someone with an itchy trigger finger so he thought it best to make it known that he was indeed human.

As the door swung open, a wide-eyed Michael greeted him. He sat on a sofa, sitting next to the woman with the chestnut hair.

"Josh!" the kid exclaimed. "Are they gone!"

"Not yet," the drummer explained. "But we're getting rid of them." He gave the kid a small smile, hoping himself that the battle waging behind him was going in their favor.

Josh looked over to see the young woman with dark brown hair. "Thanks for looking after him…uhhh…"

"Kirsten," she replied holding a hand out to him despite the situation they were in. "And its no trouble. Chad doesn't want me out there, and I didn't want this kid being out there either. He's to young for stuff like that."

"Yeah," Josh agreed. Then something she said hit him. "Wait, who's Chad?" he asked, confused.

"He's my boyfriend," she answered. "He's the leader of those soldiers out there."

"Wait, he brought you with him? Isn't he on some sort of mission to kill these things?"

"Something like that, but he doesn't want me to be alone, so he's brought me with him."

Josh stood, pondering it for a second. It still didn't make much sense to him, bringing your girlfriend on a dangerous mission like that. Then again, he wasn't Chad, and Chad could do whatever he thought was best for his group. Josh had to take care of his.

The sound of gunfire snapped him out of his trance. "Do me a favor," he said. "Watch over Michael for me? Anything comes near you don't hesitate to yell."

She nodded firmly. "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. Chad trained me in weapons."

Josh shook his head, surprised yet again. Apparently, there was much more than meets the eye to this girl. He didn't know what else to say, so he turned back around, aiming his shotgun down the hall. He had some business to take care of still.

He walked calmly back through the hall, readying himself for what he was about to face. His palms began to grow wet with sweat and he absently wiped them on his torn shirt. His mind turned to the thought of his brother lying limp on the wall, his eyes closed in eternal serenity. He thought of the blood that had pooled around Zack and that was the wood to fuel his fire, to fuel his anger, his strength.

Josh entered the battle scene calmer than he could have ever expected.

One of the creatures leapt in through a broken window. Josh turned, firing quickly with barely any thought. He was in the zone, so to speak. He seemed to lose his mind and let his instincts take over, controlling his muscles and reflexes.

The drummer pumped another round into the gun and pointed the gun up. He heard the soft, subtle _clink_! of the spent casing bouncing off the ground. His ears seemed to tune all the other discord out, focusing itself like a beam of light. He heard the sound of talons scratching the top of the bus, and he fired without a second thought. The slug punched through the ceiling easily, killing (or at the least, knocking off) the creature that had been on there. As if to prove his theory, Josh saw blood drip down onto the floor from the hole he had made.

_Clink_! Another casing was ejected, landing on the ground.

Josh looked hastily to his side. He saw Drew standing there in a deadlock with one of the creatures. The bassist had his shotgun jammed up against the creature's neck, and he managed to keep the ape-like monstrosity at bay, for now. Josh's mind started playing tricks on him again, and his vision seemed to be doubling. First, he'd see Drew standing there fighting the abomination. The next second, he'd Zack in Drew's place, blood pouring out the wound in his side. The visions twisted and morphed, swapping with each other until the point Josh didn't know which was truly real. His head pounded intensely, making matters worse.

_Not again! _a powerful voice commanded from his head, full of vigor and authority.

Josh roared deep in his throat, emitting a deep and powerful scream as he bull rushed the stalemate. He could see the creature's face getting dangerously close to Drew's own face, but Josh was determined to not let the two come in contact. He dipped his shoulder down and rammed into the ribs of the creature. Surprised by this attack that had come from nowhere, the monster uttered a small chirrup— a noise that sounded very birdlike to the drummer— and tumbled over. Josh made sure to pump a round from his shotgun into the surprised creature as it scrambled for purchase.

"Thanks," Drew said breathlessly. "Thanks a lot."

"Couldn't let him get you like that," Josh replied. As if that was all that needed to be said, the two turned their attention back to the battle at hand.

Another Screecher jumped in from the top, ready to rip flesh from bone. Josh saw that it was close to the leader of the soldiers, Winn. "Chad, lookout!" he called out, but it wasn't soon enough. Chad turned just in time to see the creature swinging its massive claws at him. The Screechers claws dragged across the man's exposed side, leaving large gashes in his camouflage suit. The image morphed again, and Josh didn't see Chad doubling over, putting a hand on a bleeding side. He saw Zack. Things were too familiar for him.

He moved forward, desperate to save what he still imagined as his brother. The Screecher reared its claws back, ready to deliver the fatal blow. Josh fired, sending a slug right into the creature's spine. It flopped forward, twitching and shaking. Winn raised his machine gun weakly and fired, setting the Screecher still.

"Come on!" Josh yelled, lifting the soldier to his feet. He let Winn place his arm around his shoulders for support. It didn't matter to the drummer if the blood from the man's side was also staining his own clothes. He had already gone through enough hell to make a little bit of blood his least concern.

Josh dragged the injured soldier to the kitchen area, setting him against the back of the kitchen counter. He ducked down next to soldier, bringing out the shells in his pocket and slowly and methodically reloaded his gun. He pumped the action, ready for more combat.

"Just relax," Josh said. "We can handle the rest." He turned to Christie who looked a little wide-eyed at all the blood dripping from the soldier's side. Still, Josh knew he could count on her. "Christie, find some towels in the cupboards there, I'm sure we have some. He have to stop the bleeding soon."

The girl nodded and immediately began to go to work finding the materials. Josh gave a determined nod to Chad before popping up from his cover and rejoining the fray.

The mass of creatures had begun to thin, and the group of survivors had little trouble taking them out.

The soldiers worked together so perfectly, Josh found himself often stopping what he was doing to watch. Their teamwork was perfect. At one moment in time, Rob's UZI ran out of ammo and he ducked down, calling out to the larger soldier, Miller, who stood over him covering him with his shotgun. The called out to each other, reporting the enemy's movement and position. They were the ones that were truly thinning the flocks of demons.

The bus rocked back and forth from Steve trying to make their escape, but Josh respected the man immensely for what he was doing. The man had successfully managed to keep his cool and his eyes on the road, despite the commotion and discord behind him. The man had made quite a turn for the best seemingly out of nowhere. Josh found it hard to imagine ever beating this guy up.

Another of the creature's fell through the ceiling, snapping Josh out of his trance. He fired at the creature quickly; killing it before it even realized what was going on.

Josh sighed, wiping sweat from his face. There was still a battle going on, and he couldn't forget it.

_A/N: So here it is, the cross over chapter. Just to make things clear, I do not own the members of the SEALS team or Kirsten. Those characters are the creation of Raven Thornheart. You should check out his fic, Black Ops. I'm sure I've mentioned it before, but I thought I'd bring it up again. Also, just wanted to thank everyone for reviewing, what you say provides inspiration for me. I mean it. A lot of thanks go out to Chaos Bayne for offering some help. I'm trying to work on it man, but it's pretty tough. Take care everyone and I'll see you around in the next chapter._


	17. Answers

**Chapter Seventeen— Answers**

"Son of a bitch! I need some backup over here!"

Drew heard the soldier's cry for help and turned. It was the large man, Tony. One of the Screechers was trying to pull itself in through the window and grab the large man as he reloaded his shotgun. Drew gave the soldier the assistance he needed with a shot that sent the creature flying back onto the streets.

_How many more of them are there? _Drew thought to himself as he took his time to reload his own shotgun. It seemed impossible that these creatures could even exist, yet it seemed even more impossible for there to be so many of them. When the last shell was in, he pumped the action, ready to fight any more of the freaks that came.

"Jesus Christ! Help! Help me!" Steve called from the front of the bus. Drew turned, ready to light up any creature that was there. He saw nothing, but he knew where the creature was. Quickly, the bassist ran next to the panicking man. He pointed his shotgun up at the ceiling, and sure enough, he saw the Screecher. It was clawing its way through the ceiling, waiting to create an opening large enough to fall through.

"Nice try," Drew said as he fired the gun. Blood rained down on the bassist's face, but it was a small price to pay to kill the demon. Drew turned, bringing an arm up to his face to wipe of the blood and gore stuck there. "See," he said with a smile, "there's no reason to freak out, Steve. Drew's got everything under control."

The older man gave a faint smile, but his face still shone with an ashy pallor. Drew didn't blame him for being afraid in this situation; he was terrified himself. You'd have to be Superman to not have some fear in a situation like this. The bassist gave Steve a friendly pat on the shoulder as a way of telling the man everything would be okay.

Suddenly, everything went quiet. There were no more cries of the Screechers, no more gunshots, no more yelling. Drew could only hear the heavy breathing of his companions and the steady roar of the bus's engine. Everyone stood still, listening carefully for any sound or signs of the demons.

At the back of the bus, a door opened, and a confused looking woman stepped out of it. Michael walked behind her, showing obvious distaste for the way the woman was babying him but not complaining.

"Are they all gone?" the woman asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Chad answered.

Suddenly, a terrifying and familiar shriek filled the air. The door of the bathroom exploded outward and a Screecher stepped out of the room, looking around for its prey. The soldier's raised their own guns, but they didn't fire. They were already beat to the punch.

"Ahhhh!" the woman screamed, bringing her handgun up and firing several times into the demon's chest. Michael raised his own gun and helped her out. The creature fell flat on its back, shaking and writhing, but the woman showed it no mercy. She didn't stop pulling the trigger until it lay completely still.

"I think that's the last of them," Drew announced as he watched the horrid creature dance its death spasm.

"Yeah, he's right," Miller agreed, taking the moment of peace to fully reload his own shotgun and other weapons. "I don't see any left but the ones laying dead on the ground."

"Bout damn time too," Rob said happily, discarding the butt of his latest cigarette nonchalantly to the floor. "For a minute there it seemed to be raining the fucking freaks."

Drew took the time to look around and inspect the area around him. Blood was everywhere. It had been splattered across the walls and floors, making the room look like someone had gone through exploding buckets of red paint. Also, the bodies of the slain creatures lay across the floor, each positioned in a different death pose. Drew saw quite a few of the bodies missing heads, courtesy of the three shotguns at the disposal of the group. He grunted with disgusted dissatisfaction at the revolting mess.

_And we still got to run through the rest of town with this shit with us, _Drew thought with a visible grimace. He briefly wondered how long it would take for the bus to start smelling like rancid death. Chances were, it wouldn't take too long.

"How are you holding up, Steve?" Josh called from the back.

"Oh, just peachy," the man called back with dry humor. "You may be surprised to know that that wasn't the first time I've driven a bus frantically through zombie infested streets while people waged war with giant reptilian gorillas in the back."

His joke elicited a short laugh from nearly everyone in the bus. "Good to know," Josh called back.

Drew looked back to the drummer than to Steve, wondering how such a turnaround had been made. It hadn't been too long ago when the two had been butting heads and trying to tear each other's throats out like wild animals. Now, the two were behaving like the best of friends. Had the fight really made that much of a difference? Drew thought about it and that was the one event that had changed everything. Or maybe it had been the moment at the hotel when Josh had been ready to sacrifice himself to save the rest of the group. Maybe Steve respected the man for that.

Drew gave up, thinking that it didn't matter how it happened, just as long as it stayed the way it was.

The bassist moved over to the side of the bus and sat down on one of the elongated benches set to the side as part of the lounge area. He sighed with relief as he sat down, happy to rest after the battle he had just waged for his own survival. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He felt the weight of someone sitting next to him, but he paid them no attention.

"How you holding up?" a familiar voice inquired.

"Better than I could have ever hoped for," the bassist explained. "But I'm more interested in how you're doing, Josh."

His remark elicited a confused sigh from the drummer. Josh grew silent, but at last he spoke. "Hard to say for sure. Physically, I'm fine. Though I sure could use a shower and a warm, cozy bed."

"Hear, hear," Drew agreed, nodding his head empathetically.

The Latino soldier, Rob Maltose approached the two band members with a large smile on his face. "I still can't believe it," he said as he sat on the other side of Drew. "You guys are still alive. That's amazing. Then again, I wouldn't expect any less from you guys." The man pause then looked around, slightly confused. "Where's the rest of the band? Shouldn't they be with you guys."

"Yeah," Josh said, his voice changing to one much more hollow and empty. "They should."

"We lost them throughout the night," Drew said, overtaking the conversation from Josh. "Adam died at the show, and Zack died at the hotel."

Rob's face went slack with shock. "You mean…damn," he said stunned. Suddenly, his gloved hands curled into fists, and he pounded one of his fists into the palm of his other hand. "Son of a bitch! I can't fucking believe that! Now I'm going to have to kill twice as many of these fuckers!"

Drew was taken aback from this outburst. He hadn't expected the soldier to seethe like that at the announcement.

"Looks like me and you are on the same page, Rob," Josh said, his voice emotionless.

There was an awkward silence among the trio for a few minutes before Josh broke it. "How do you think your leader is going to be?"

Rob looked back at Chad who sat in the very back being bandaged by Kirsten and Greg. "Don't worry about him. He'll be up kicking zombie ass with the best of them in a few minutes."

Josh looked over at Drew, and they exchanged a worried glance. _Should we tell him? _Drew thought, and knowing that Josh was thinking the same thing. He bit his lip, wondering what to do, but Josh made the first move.

"I think I'm going to go talk with him," Josh said, standing up. "I still have to thank him for saving my life."

Drew watched his friend go and briefly wondered how Josh would choose to break the news. Rob watched him go as well before turning his full attention back to Drew.

"He lost his brother, huh?" the soldier asked, taking a much more serious tone as he lit up a cigarette. "I feel just shitty now. I know it may not mean much to him or you, but I feel like I've now lost my own brother. Kinda weird isn't it?" He exhaled, sending out a puff of white smoke that slowly drifted towards the ceiling. "I mean, I've never met any of you guys before. Sure, I've seen in you in concert, but I've never held a full conversation with you. Still, I guess I've connected with you guys cause of your music. I don't know how else to explain it."

Drew nodded. "It's tough, tough for everyone. But you know what? It's even worse for Josh. For awhile I was worried it had effected him mentally. You know, made him forget what was reality and what wasn't. I kinda worried for his sanity."

"That's a tough thing to hold onto," Rob agreed. "Especially with things the way they are now. I mean, look at it out there. It's fucking devastation. Zombies and other creatures like those damn lizard men." He paused, taking a generous drag of the cigarette held by his lips. "How did the others die?"

Drew sighed, bringing all those painful memories back to mind. "Adam…one of the zombies attacked him right on stage. It tore out his fucking neck. We managed to get him back to the dressing room, but he died in there before we could get any real help. And Zack, he was killed by those lizard things we just fought."

"We had thought we could get to the hotel and be safe there. Only thing was, when we got close to the hotel, those things came out of nowhere, jumping down from the rooftops." Rob nodded his head, the smoke that drifted from his smoldering cigarette following the pattern in the air. Drew knew the man knew that piece of information from when the soldiers had been chased by the green demons. "We got to the front door, but they wouldn't open. Someone must have cut the power or something. I thought we were done for, but we found a entrance on the side that lead to the kitchen. We made a rush for it with those things hot on our heels."

"I don't know exactly what happened then because I was towards the front of the group," Drew continued. It made him feel good getting all of this off his chest. The memories were no longer bottled up inside him like a ravenous creature caught in a cage, trying to tear itself out. "All I know is that I made it into the kitchen with little trouble. Then I turned around and I saw Zack standing there, struggling with one of the demons. He had his shotgun jammed against its throat and was fighting to keep its claws off of him. I remember that the whole left side of his jacket had been shredded, and I remember seeing the blood that pooled down to the ground."

Rob said nothing; he only fixed Drew with a serious stare, absorbing every detail of the story. Even his cigarette was forgotten, being held loosely by his hand.

"Zack yelled at Josh, telling him to go on and leave him, but Josh didn't want to. He moved forward to help his brother, but if he did that, he would have died too. Do you understand that? They both would have died if I didn't do something, so I did the only thing I could do. I grabbed Josh and started pulling him back. I was too weak to do it by myself, but Steve helped me out. Together we dragged Josh kicking and screaming into the kitchen, leaving Zack alone to fend off those things."

Tears that Drew had held in him for so long finally started to trickle down. "That's what I've been having to get off my chest for so long. Josh blames himself for letting Zack die, but in truth, it was me. If I hadn't pulled Josh in like I had, they would have both died. He had nothing to do with it; it was really me who abandoned Zack."

"It was a tough decision," Rob said, trying to offer the smallest bit of comfort to the bassist. "But I think you did the right thing. It's not always the prettiest of decisions, but it would have been worse if you lost both of the Hunter brothers."

"You mean that?" Drew asked, trying to regain control of himself.

"Yeah, I really do."

"You know the only good news that could come from that?" Drew asked, wiping away the tears that still clung to his eyes. "Zack managed to kill everyone single one of the damn lizards. When we left the hotel, we saw him and the bodies around him. He went down fighting."

"A true fucking hero, that's for sure," Rob said.

"Yeah," Drew agreed. He paused for a minute before changing the subject to something more cheerful. "So you're a fan, huh?"

This question earned the bassist a rather large smile from the soldier. "You know it. I own both of your CD's. I've been to a few of your concerts too. I love your guys' stuff. It's fucking incredible."

Drew chuckled a little. "I still never get tired of meeting a new fan. What's your favorite song?"

Rob sat back, thinking deeply. "That's a tough one to say. I love them all, but if I had to pick just one, I'd pick Living in Shadows. That song is just fucking epic!"

"I've always liked that one too," Drew agreed. Their conversation turned to music, and they temporarily forgot about the horror outside the bus and the corpses of the demons inside the bus. Still, they had no idea that ahead of them, a new enemy was waiting to attack.

xXxXx

"How bad is your side?" Josh said with genuine interest to the injured soldier.

"Not too bad," Chad said. "How's your arm? Looks like you got cut pretty badly."

Josh looked at his right bicep, and sure enough, it had been cut. Blood had spilled down his whole arm, but Josh noticed that it had stopped bleeding fresh blood alread, meaning it hadn't cut him that deep. "Ha, that's funny," Josh remarked. "I didn't even realize I had been cut. Doesn't look to bad though. Even if it was, I don't think I could complain to you, now could I?"

"Still," Kirsten interjected, "you shouldn't take it too lightly — any cut could become infected." At the sound of that last word, Josh swallowed hard. Infection was something he had come over here to talk about in the first place. He quickly regained his composure, hoping the two soldiers and the woman wouldn't notice his discomfort. "Let me bandage you up."

"I'll be fine," Josh said, declining the offer, but Kirsten wouldn't take no for an answer. She reached to her side and grabbed a med kit lying on the floor. Most of the wrap had been used for Chad, but some still remained. She also grabbed a small bottle of liquid.

"Now, hold still," she said demandingly. "This may sting a bit." She poured some of the antiseptic onto a cloth and pressed it over Josh's cut. The drummer cringed. His eyes started to water, and he gritted his teeth in pain. Finally, she began to wrap his arm with the bandages. Josh stood silent, letting the girl work.

"Seriously, though," Josh finally said, turning his attention back to Chad. "Don't let this subject come to me. I want to know, how do you honestly feel?"

The soldier sighed, but he must have figured there was no way around it. "Hurts less than you'd think," he said, "but I don't think I'm going to be doing jumping jacks and tap-dancing around anytime soon." It was a strange attempt at a joke, but Josh laughed along anyway. Laughing had a way of making the wound seem like it wasn't as life-threatening as Josh had initially imagined. It also managed to make him forget that the wound may end up turning Chad into…

_Now comes the hard part, _Josh thought. He stood silent again, waiting until Kirsten had finished patching his arm.

"Listen, do you two mind if I talk to him alone?" Josh asked, hoping some one-on-one time with the soldier would help him explain things better.

"No problem, man," Greg said, moving towards Tony who stood chatting pleasantly with Christie.

Kirsten looked up at Josh with a concerned look in her eyes. They were a little puffy and red from the crying the girl had done, and that was when Josh understood how much she actually loved Chad. She said nothing to the drummer as she moved slowly towards the others. Watching her go, Josh wondered if somehow she knew what was going on with Chad on the inside. Maybe all the soldiers knew. They could have come across someone who changed throughout the city, and then they would all know the terrible truth.

_But what if they don't? _Josh thought, and he mentally pushed himself to do what he had sent himself here for.

"There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about," Josh said, sitting on the sofa next to the soldier.

"I'm all ears."

Josh gulped as he stared into the serious stare that Chad had fixed him with. It made it harder for him to think with the soldier staring so interestedly at him. Still, he couldn't be deterred. He had set his mind to do something, and when Josh Hunter set his mind to do something, he damn well did it.

"I don't know how to make this easy on you, but you could be infected, meaning you may turn into one of those zombies out there."

Chad took a small moment to absorb what Josh had said. He sighed, leaning back further in the sofa. "Yeah, I know. I was wondering myself if I should explain that to the rest of you."

"You already know?"

"It was back when I picked up Kirsten at the very beginning of the outbreak," Chad explained. "I had to kill her friends because they turned into zombies. I saw her friend Carol change right in front of my eyes and I had to bring her down myself. How did you find out?"

"We had another person traveling with us for awhile. He was a security guard at the show, name of Terry Wakefield. I honestly don't think we could have gotten out of there without him. When we trying to leave, he got scratched by a girl. Later in the night, his condition got worse and worse. We managed to get to the hotel…" Josh gulped, but continued, deciding to leave out his brother's untimely demise. "When we got there, we put Terry in a room and let him rest. Sometime later he ended up getting up without us knowing. I was away from the rest of the group so I don't know the specifics, but Drew told me he found Terry dead in the elevator. That was when he changed into a zombie and tried to kill Drew. Drew managed to shoot him in the head and that was it."

Chad nodded along, when he realized Josh was done talking he spoke up. "It's hard to have to kill one of your own loved ones like that. It's even worse seeing them become one of those things."

"Which brings me to my next point," Josh said. "What do you plan on doing when you start to change?"

"There's only one option as I see it," Chad said gravely. He didn't say anymore, but he looked down at one of the handguns set in the holster on his side.

Josh nodded, understanding where is mind was heading. "Hopefully, that time doesn't come for quite some time from now. Terry managed to fight it off for a long time. You could do the same."

"Yeah," Chad. "Long enough to see this mission all the way through."

"One last thing," Josh said. "About this mission, what are you guys doing, really?"

"I think that's better for me to share with your whole group, so I won't have to repeat myself. Anyways, I already told parts to your driver so that he'd change his course."

"So he'd what?" Josh asked, taken aback. The drummer had been determined to get his friend's out of the city, yet now this soldier had changed their route — for better or for worse was yet to be determined.

"I thought musician's were supposed to have good ears," Chad replied with a sly smile on his face. He chuckled lightly a bit so that Josh wouldn't mistake the joke for a real insult. "Yeah, in my condition my team won't last long on the streets. I'd only slow them down. So I talked to your driver, Steve. He seems like a nice fellow and he agreed to take us to our destination. After we're dropped off, your free to continue on your merry way."

"And what about your girl?"

The soldier was thrown off by the question. He looked up at Josh with a surprise look on his face and then looked down the hall, catching a glimpse of Kirsten. "And what about her?"

"Are you taking her with you," Josh answered, plainly.

"Of course."

"Do you really think that's the best decision?" Josh retorted, fixing him with a somber look. "She isn't a soldier. She has no more part in your mission than me our anyone else does. She's a civilian. If you'd prefer, she could stay on the bus and we could take her with us."

The soldier's answer was quick and to the point.

"No."

"Just hear me out on this one," Josh shot back quickly, expecting this reaction. "I understand you want the best for her. I understand how much you love her, and I know that you're trying to protect her. But, you can't protect her as well if she's going on this dangerous mission with you. She'd get in the way. However, if you let her come with us, we can escape and then she'll be safe. Also, while you're considering this, realize that you may or may not be infected at this point. Do you really want your girlfriend to see you turn into one of them? Is that something you want for her?"

Chad put his right fist into his left hand, leaning forward and letting his elbows rest on his knees. His brows furrowed, a visible sign of his concentration. Finally, he broke the tension.

"Still not going to happen. I want her where I can keep an eye on her. No offense, but you and your group are just civilians with absolutely no weapons training whatsoever."

"I think you're forgetting who saved who back there," Josh said with a sly smile.

"Yeah, and I appreciate that more than you can ever know, but I also saved you. Remember?"

Josh nodded, remembering just how close that Screecher busting through the window had come to ending his own life.

"Kirsten will be much safer staying with a group of highly trained soldiers," Chad continued. "As for your last point, if I do turn, I'd like a final chance to say goodbye to her. As I'm sure she'd like the same. I appreciate your concern, but we've managed to handle ourselves fine so far and our mission is almost complete anyway. Besides, SOCOM already knows about her and she'll need to be present at the end for the debriefing."

"Fine," Josh said, throwing his hands back in defeat. "It was just a suggestion anyway. I didn't think you'd actually go for it." He looked down the hall and gazed at the group of survivors.

Steve was still behind the wheel, navigating them safely through the streets. His son stood on his side, chatting peacefully with him. Drew and Rob were talking too, laughing happily at some joke the soldier had made. Tony and Christie were off to the side holding their own conversation as well, and from the looks of it, the larger soldier was trying to make a pass at the waitress. The only one who wasn't interacting with anyone was Greg, the African-American Soldier. He sat of to the side, staring at the floor between his boots. Josh briefly wondered what the man had seen so far and what could disturb him so bad. He had spent enough time in Raccoon City to know just how horrific bad could actually be, and he felt true pity for the man.

"Do you think its time for the debriefing," Josh asked, turning to the soldier.

"Now's as good as time as any."

xXxXx

"Listen up, everyone," Chad spoke up, his voice regaining the vigor and commanding tone it had earlier. He didn't move much, but when he did there was a noticeable grimace of pain — no doubt courtesy of his injured side. "I'm sure some of you guys are wondering just what's going on here?"

"Sure are," Steve said. The man kept his eyes on the road, but he was still genuinely interested in the going-ons behind him.

"What we're dealing with here is a massive viral outbreak," Chad continued, "courtesy of the Umbrella Corporation."

There was a moment of shocked silence where everyone let that last piece of information sink in.

Steve suddenly started to chuckle, and his chuckling turned into a robust laugh. "Hahaha, yeah, I believe that right away! Are you crazy? Umbrella Corporation! That's a good one!"

Suddenly, Greg stood up, pointing his rifle at the man behind the wheel. "Shutup! Don't laugh at him like that! It's the truth!"

Steve's face grew pale, and his eyes darted from the road to the barrel of the long gun. He opened his mouth to try to say he was sorry, but all that came out was gibberish.

"Hey! Don't point that gun at my dad!" Michael yelled, trying to stand up, but Drew managed to keep a solid grip on the adolescent's arm that kept him from doing anything he might regret.

"Sit down, Michael!" Drew hissed angrily. "Sit your ass down!"

"Greg, relax," Chad said calmly. "There's no need to fly off the handle like that. You're a Goddamn soldier, so starting acting like one and stop acting like an asshole. Sit your ass down."

The commander's words seemed to calm down the African-American soldier well enough. He slowly lowered the gun and muttered an apology.

"That's better," Chad said, nodding his head with approval. "We're all friends here, no reason to be pointing guns at each other's heads. We have bigger concerns on our hand's. Now like I said, the Umbrella Corporation is responsible for this whole mess."

"But how?" Christie asked. "I'm kind of in the same boat as Steve for this one. Umbrella's the reason this city is running so well .They're the main source of income for almost half of the citizens."

"Yeah," Chad agreed, "and that's what makes the perfect cover for them, but I can assure you it's all true." He reached into a pocket on his fatigues and produced a disk. "This is what my team came here for. Stored in this disk's memory is the incriminating evidence needed to prove Umbrella's treachery. My team managed to steal it from a team of soldier's under Umbrella's payroll. Now we're on the homestretch. We just have to take it to the University where we'll rendezvous with another team of soldiers. "

"That's it, huh?" Josh asked, speaking up for the first time since this little meeting had been started.

"Yeah. Pretty simple, isn't it?"

"How far are we from our destination, sir?" Tony asked.

"Hard to say," Chad answered. "What do you think, Steve?"

"Couldn't be more than five blocks. We're getting closer."

"Great," Chad said with a smile forming on his lips. "When we finally get there we can— "

The soldier's words were interrupted by the sound of gunfire. Before any of the survivors could react, bullets were rained down upon the bus. The glass that remained in the windows was shattered, falling to the ground in a glittering display.

Josh dropped to the ground, pulling Christie to the ground with him. He covered the back of his head with his hands, looking up briefly to see where the others were. Drew lay next to Christie, holding Michael's head down and looking up at Josh.

"_What's going on?" _Drew mouthed to Josh, but his voice was impossible to hear over the roar of automatic gunfire. Josh could only shake his head stupidly. His mind could piece together that they were being attacked by people, _real _people, but he couldn't understand why.

_Unless, _he began to think, _it's more of the Umbrella soldiers. They must somehow know that the soldiers are with us._

Josh looked around for Chad and the rest of the soldiers. They had all taken cover too. _If any one is killed because of this, it's your fault, _Josh thought, looking at Chad. _They wouldn't be attacking us if you weren't with us. We could have drove right by them without them giving us a second glance. _At that moment, Josh hated the leader of the soldiers for bringing this on his friends.

Suddenly, Josh heard a loud _thud_! followed by the screeching of metal on asphalt, meaning only one thing: the bus had popped a tire. To prove his theory, the bus started to twist and turn out of control, swaying from side to side. Finally, it could keep its balance no more (despite all the effort Steve was putting in to keep it from flipping) and it flipped onto its side.

Josh's body floated in the air and he seemed to see everything in slow motion as he made his descent. He saw the surprised, confused looks of his friends as they fell with him. He saw all sorts of knick-knacks floating gently in the air, defying gravity. He saw shards of glass doing the same, and they moved so slow he thought he could count them all. He watched this with vast interest until his head finally connected with something hard, making everything turn into pitch blackness.

xXxXx

_A/N: As always, a big thanks to all my faithful readers. I'm glad you guys are enjoying this as much as I am. Another big thank you to Raven Thornheart for letting me borrow his characters. It certainly adds a lot more to the mix. Expect more action in the next chapter. Until next time…_


	18. In a Sea of Chaos

**Chapter Eighteen—In a Sea of Chaos**

Drew opened his eyes slowly. The light shone brightly into his pupils, and it hurt his head if he opened them too fast. In fact, it didn't matter how fast he opened his eyes; his head still throbbed. It felt like someone had decided to shoot firecrackers off in his head, and they were still buzzing around, bouncing off the inner workings of his skull.

The world spun in front of him. Images crisscrossed back and forth, diverging and sharpening, and sending more pain into his aching skull. He groaned loudly as he rolled over. Something hard and rigid jabbed into his side. He looked stupidly down at it and saw that it was his shotgun. Drew reached out for it slowly, watching with interest as his arm seemed to divide into three separate arms and then solidify once again. When he got hold of the weapon, it relieved him, relieved him to know that this was real and not just a figment of his imagination.

Slowly, he stood back up. His legs felt weak, and they shook feebly as he tried to stand but he managed it. He looked to the side at the wall and saw the kitchen counter sticking out of the wall. Gravity had opened all of the cupboards, spilling the contents to the ground. Drew felt nauseas just looking at it. It was like he was stuck in some fun house. Up was down, left was right. None of it made any sense.

Then he remembered what had happened. _We flipped_, Drew thought with realization. _Someone just shot at us, and the bus flipped. That's why everything is so weird._ That's when he thought about the others. _Are they alright?_

He looked around groggily. His vision had started returning to its formal glory, and he could finally take in the details of his surroundings.

The bus had definitely flipped over. It hadn't flipped onto its back, but onto its side instead. The inside lay in complete disarray. Glass, bodies of the fallen Screechers, and various other objects littered the ground.

Suddenly, he heard a small voice, weak and groggy. "Help, someone," the voice said. "I can't move. There's too much stuff on me."

Who was that? The voice sounded so familiar to him, yet in his current state he couldn't figure out who it was. He looked to the sound of the voice and saw a pileup of bodies, bodies belonging to the Screecher clan that had attacked the bus earlier.

Quickly, he began to pull bodies off the pile on by one. The bodies were heavier than expected. Whatever these creatures were, they were bulky and full of weight. Drew had heard of the term _dead weight_, but he never thought the difference would be so much. He pulled off another body, and saw a human arm sticking out of the pile. Whoever was calling out to him was there.

He pulled off another body, dragging it out of his way. Under the body he saw the young boy, Michael. The boy's back rested against the wall, and the bodies had piled around him. His clothes and skin had turned a light shade of crimson, for blood covered him in seemingly all places (courtesy of the monstrous corpses), but the good that came from it was that the bodies had protected him in a way, absorbing the blows from anything that bounced near him.

"Michael!" he exclaimed. "God, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," the boy answered, standing up. His face shown with a dull paleness, and Drew wouldn't have been the least bit surprised if the adolescent wanted to throw up. "God! It smelled so bad!" Michael continued.

"Yeah," Drew said absentmindedly, moving his eyes around the room to locate the others. "I bet it did." He briefly patted Michael on the shoulder and moved further down the bus. The soldiers were scattered about, but they were slowly getting back up, groaning and cursing. Drew had to give them credit, they bounced back quickly. However, the soldiers, despite how helpful they had been, were the least of his concerns. He was worried most about his best friend.

"Josh!" he exclaimed as he saw the drummer, rolled up into a protective ball on the ground near the inverted kitchen table. "Come on. Please be alive! Wake up!"

Drew thanked God when he saw the drummer's eyes flutter open slowly. "Ahhhh…" the drummer moaned lowly. "God…my head!" Josh managed to sit up, sitting cross-legged. Drew saw a droplet of blood start rolling its way slowly down the side of his head. From the looks of it, he had taken a nasty hit to the head. Drew smiled happily still; just glad to see his friend was alive. "Wha…what happened?" Josh asked through teeth gritted in pain, reaching up and feeling the blood on hsi forehead. "Is my head messing with me, or did we…did we just get shot at?"

"Yeah," Drew said, remembering the sound of ricocheting bullets that had filled the interior of the bus. "Someone sure did. I guess they managed to pop one of our tires too. That's what made us flip."

"What about the others, are they alright?"

_Good question, _Drew thought. He mentally kicked himself for not thinking of the others right away and only worrying about Josh. "Michael's fine. The soldiers look like they're getting around."

"What about Steve and Christie?"

"I'm fine," Christie said, making her way over to the two. "I didn't even get knocked out, but I got one hell of a bruise." As she said this, she pressed her hand on the back of her head tentatively. She brought it back and looked at it. Happy there was no blood; she gave a flash of a smile to the two.

"Glad to hear that," Josh said, grunting as he stood up. For a brief second, his legs wobbled, and Drew hastily reached over, supporting him. He opened his mouth to say something else, but a scream cut him off.

"AHHH!! GOD!! IT HURTS!!"

Drew turned quickly towards the noise and saw it was coming from the front of the bus, more specifically, the driver's seat. Drew could decipher that it was Steve with little trouble, but his mind couldn't seem to focus on how the man was still in his seat—a strange accomplishment considering the seat now seemed to jut from the wall. A few seconds after realizing this, Drew's mind finally brought itself back up to speed. _He's wearing his seat belt still._ He made his way over to see what the matter was, but one of the soldier's beat him to it.

"Shh!" Rob commanded, ducking down next to the seat. "Don't you realize the enemies out there!" he said through teeth clenched in paranoia, trying to keep his voice down, but not trying to hide his anger at the man's screams of pain.

"Fuck you!" Steve spat, howling in pain. "They shot me! I've been fucking shot! Right in the leg!"

Now, Drew crouched next to Rob. He looked at Steve and assessed the situation as best as he could. Steve continued to howl, but he kept it down to a lower level, obviously not wanting to be shot again. The man hung loosely, being withheld only by his seat belt. Tiny beads of sweat formed on his brow, but the detail that drew the bassist's attention was the man's legs. There was a large hole in the Steve's right leg, and Drew could see inside to the red, bloody flesh past the man's jeans. Blood seeped from the wound in a steady stream, using gravity to find its way to the ground. Already, it was starting to bubble up on the ground in the way that only blood seemed capable of.

"Move," a powerful voice commanded, and Drew turned, surprised to see Kristin crouched next to him. "I can help him."

That was all that needed to be said. Drew quickly slid out of her way, happy to give Steve some help. He moved over to Josh, who was by the leader of the soldiers.

"Do you think they're still out there?" the drummer asked.

"Hard to say," Chad answered. He stood next to one of the holes in the ceiling (now a hole in the wall since things had been turned around). He took a quick peek to the streets outside, not wanting to keep his head exposed for too long. "From the looks of it, it's clear. I don't see anyone on the sidewalks, but those rooftops bother me. It'd be too easy for them to sit there and peg us as we step out. That is, if they got the right guns for it."

"Comforting thoughts," Drew muttered to himself, shaking his head dejectedly.

"Uhh, sir, looks like we have another problem on our hand," Greg announced. He peered out another hole, not caring if any part of his body was exposed. Drew moved over and looked tentatively around, fearing that a sniper would use that opportune moment to blow his brains out. When he saw what the soldier had seen, he forgot completely about any soldiers that may or may not be out there.

"Fuck…" Drew said breathlessly. He looked out of the tear in the metal and looked straight at a crowd of undead. Even in the daylight, they were terrifying—perhaps even more so. There was no more darkness to cover up their horrifying characteristics. Every wound, sore, and opening was exposed to the light, and the sight of the dead made Drew's stomach turn over.

The crowd was large. Close to fifty, maybe even closer to a hundred. At the forefront of the crowd was a bald, middle-aged man in a dress shirt. Drew caught himself staring at the side of the man's face, which had seemed to have been burned off. The crowd was still twenty feet away, but they were getting closer and growing in numbers, if they didn't hurry, they'd be overrun.

"We gotta go!" Greg called out.

"What about the people who shot at us?" Christie asked.

Drew's head started to hurt again, and he rubbed his temples in aggravation. _What to do?_ he thought frantically. He felt like a mouse caught in a corner. Nowhere left to run and nowhere left to hide. _What to do? What to do? What to do?_

"What are we going to do?" Drew asked in panic. "We can't go out there. There could still be soldiers."

"And if we stay here, we'll just be slaughtered by those freaks," Rob added. Drew noticed he had lit up a new cigarette, and right now, he wished for one himself. He hadn't smoked before, but now it didn't really seem like it would matter. Plus, he needed something to calm his nerves.

"We're going to have to make a run for it," Josh commanded. "If we move fast enough, we might be able to make it hard for the soldiers to hit us." He looked to Chad in support of his decision, hoping the soldier would add some encouragement and ideas of his own.

Chad nodded grimly, pulling out his pistol. "Seems like the only logical choice. We don't have enough ammo to handle all of those, and I don't know about you boys but I don't wanna just sit here and wait for them to come get me. I'd rather do something about it."

"Fuckin right!" Rob and Tony cheered together. The soldier's positive outlook on the situation managed to uplift Drew's spirits slightly. _Glad we came across them, _Drew thought with an inner smile. He now believed everything would work out just fine, but there was still some news to put a damper on his mood.

"We can't leave yet," Kirsten announced. "Steve's not going to be able to go anywhere until I help him with his leg. I have to get this bullet out of his leg, or it could become infected."

"Forget about it," Steve grunted, making an effort to stand up. His body jerked forward as he tried to stand, and the man cried softly at the pain in his leg. Still, Drew was surprised at the resolve of the man. Tears fell softly down his face and his lip quivered slightly in pain, yet he managed to keep standing. "There's no time for stuff like that. I'd rather get out of here alive and lose my leg than stay here and fix it up."

Kirsten gave the man a look of concern, but Chad cut her off before she could voice any complaints. "You heard the man! Time to get the hell outta here! Tony take point! Use your M60 to give us some extra breathing room. Rob, back us up. Greg stay in the center with me, Steve, and the two girls. Let's go!"

Tony stepped out of one of the larger tears in the ceiling, using it as a door. He stood defiantly as the zombies drew closer. He raised the large gun Chad had referred to as an M60 to his shoulder, prepping himself. Drew saw the sweat that rolled down the back of the giant's neck as he faced down the crowd of the undead. For a second, the bassist was worried that Tony had frozen in fear, but he forgot that Tony was a solider.

Suddenly, the air was filled with the sound of booming thunder, and Drew covered his ears in pain. It took him a second to realize that it wasn't really thunder, but Tony's gun. He fired in short, controlled bursts, and Drew watched stupidly as the bullets tore through the soft flesh as if it was merely paper.

Drew watched intently as one of the bullets pierced through a woman's head, completely obliterating it. Another round tore into the cheek of a man, tearing off the whole right side of that man's face. Not all the rounds were clean kills, however. Some of the rounds punched through the chest of a large man in a leather jacket. Drew stared at the three gaping holes in the man's sternum as the man dropped to the ground.

Tony's relentless firing pushed the zombie crowd back, giving the group some more breathing room.

"Go! Go! Go!" Chad ushered Drew, giving him a light push in the small of his back. Drew hesitated briefly, not wanting to be exposed to the zombie's greedy claws and maws, but it was only for a second. When that small second passed, he stepped out into the sunlight, holding his shotgun out in his clammy hands. He stood, looking around all three-hundred-and-sixty degrees. He had never seen so many zombies, and being surrounded by them made him very uneasy. Panic tried to overtake him, but he controlled himself. He had to be strong.

The bassist pointed his shotgun this way and that way, trying to deter any zombies from approaching the hole his friends were using to exit the overturned bus. A zombie missing its right hand managed to avoid being blown to pieces by Tony's cannon and charged stupidly forward, raising its deformed arms out towards the bassist. Drew didn't hesitate; he raised his shotgun and blew off the zombie's head in one shot.

"Hurry up!" Drew yelled. "Let's get outta here!"

Josh stepped out next, readying his handgun. Drew knew that the drummer didn't have much ammo left for any of his guns, but he also knew that the drummer wouldn't carelessly waste it. Josh would find a way to use his rounds sparingly.

Greg came out next, giving Tony some needed support with his sniper rifle. He had headshot after headshot, helping dwindle the impressive number of the undead. Michael came out next, gazing around with terror at the crowd he faced, and Christie followed quickly behind him. She turned around and gave Steve a helping hand so that he could exit the bus as well. Chad followed Steve hastily, using one of his hands to aim his pistol and the other to support his side. Kirsten came out after him, followed by Rob. Rob pulled out both of machine guns and pointed them in both directions.

"Move out!" Chad yelled, barely audible over the roar of gunfire.

That was the only order the group wanted to hear. Tony started to move forward, carving his way through the throng of the crowd with his massive machine gun. Drew followed immediately behind him, cleaning up the ones that escaped the fire with his shotgun. The further they traveled into the crowd, the more dangerous it got. The zombies seemed to grow more excited and some would even charge forward faster than they're slow paced walk. Whenever one of the zombies tried this, Drew would send them flying back with a blast from his shotgun, trying to blow off their heads in the process.

Gunfire filled the air, and Drew's nostrils filled with the scent of blood and gunpowder. Things seemed so chaotic and unruly. He had to keep his head on a swivel to make sure nothing took him by surprise. The group had managed to make it to the middle of the crowd already and they were surrounded on all sides by the undead.

_Just let me get out of here, _Drew thought as he fired the last round in his shotgun into the face of a charging zombie. He reached into his pockets, pulling out more shells and hastily reloading them. _I've never wanted anything so bad in my life. I just wanna get back into the open streets. _A woman wearing a rain coat slick with blood and gore moved forward, attempting to grab Drew. His fingers fumbled slightly, dropping one of the slugs he held in his fingers. His gun wasn't ready to fire. Doing the only thing he could think of, Drew kicked out with his right leg, sending the woman to the pavement.

Another charged over the woman who lay on the pavement, but Drew had managed to finish reloading his gun. "Bad timing, bub," he said sarcastically as he fired the slug into the zombie's head. There was an explosion of blood and gore and the undead dropped down to its knees.

Drew kept moving forward, firing periodically into the crowd to keep them at bay. He kept his feet high off the ground, making sure to not trip over any of the dead bodies lining the ground—courtesy of Tony. He was surprised. Things seemed to be working out just fine, much better then he had originally hoped. They just had to keep this up and they would see open streets in no time.

Unfortunately, Drew knew that if things could go wrong, they would almost always do so.

The roar of Tony's gun quickly died down; followed by the man shouting, "Reload!"

At the sound of that word, Drew wished he would never have to hear it again in his life—that was, if he ever lived through this. With the main artillery of the group out of the picture, the zombies made a generous advance. They pressed eagerly forward, greedy hands outstretched and mouths opening hungrily. Drew did his best to repel their advances with his shotgun, but the gun wasn't made for fighting these numbers.

Tony did the best he could, swapping out the chains of ammunition for the gun, but it was a slow process.

Rob used his dual machineguns to help alleviate the problem. However, he sprayed his ammunition much more, to the point where one could consider it wasteful even. Drew glanced over and saw Josh standing next to Rob, cleaning up Rob's kills with well placed headshots. Despite, the spray and pray method, Rob managed to hold the undead army back as Tony reloaded. However, even his ammo supply wasn't infinite.

"Fuck! I'm out!" Rob yelled. He tossed the empty and worthless guns to the bloody asphalt. Drew watched their descent in slow motion. Even with the roar of gunfire rattling his brain, Drew swore he could hear the metallic _clang! _as the guns connected with the ground. At that sound, his heart sank deep into the recesses of his stomach, and all hope faded. It was like a cave in, sealing the group's fate, a fate that didn't look all too optimistic.

"Any time there, big fellow!" Drew yelled with a slight trace of panic in his voice.

"I know! I know! Damnit!" Tony yelled back. Drew glanced hastily over after sending a zombie that was getting a little too personal back into the crowd. Drew saw the man was working his ass off to hurry up. He could see the beads of sweat pouring down the man's face as he struggled to set it in.

"Get the fuck off of me!!" Drew someone yell next to him. He turned to see Steve grappling with a zombie at close quarters. The zombie had its hands on his Steve's soldiers and was attempting to finish him off with a bite to the throat. Steve had one hand under the zombie throat, pushing him back and the other punched the zombie furiously in the head in an attempt to get him off.

Drew quickly ran over to help him. He lifted his shotgun into the air and brought the butt of the gun against the back of the creature's head with all the force he could muster. Blood sprayed out onto his face as the blow connected, caving in the back of the creature's skull. The crack had sent a big enough jolt through the creature's brain to bring him down.

"Tha…thanks," Steve muttered out of breath. "Thanks a lot."

"No problem," Drew answered with a smile on his lips.

Suddenly, he saw Steve's eyes widen with terror and he pushed Drew to the side. "Look out!" the man yelled, pulling out his handgun and shooting. Drew landed roughly on his hindquarters, looking up at Steve. He saw the man shoot a zombie that had been just behind Drew right in the head.

Now was Drew's turn to say thanks. He gladly did so as Steve held out his hand, helping the bassist back to his feet.

The zombies were getting closer, forcing the group of survivors to move closer and closer to each other, forming a tight circle. They stood together like a tiny island in a sea of chaos.

Things were looking bleak for the group, Tony still hadn't managed to reload the gun properly—in his hassle of putting the chain of ammo back in its position he had jammed it. It was a simple mistake done because of the stress he faced surrounded by a group of the undead, but it was a simple mistake that had allowed the zombies to move even closer.

Drew pumped the action of his shotgun, readying another round which he quickly fired into the face of one of the undead. He took no time to watch the effects of his shot; he had already readied another round in his shotgun, shooting at another zombie. Things grew chaotic. Drew fired like a madman, shooting and pumping and shooting again. His shoulder started to grow sore from the abuse it took in trying to absorb the kickback from the powerful gun.

In his frenzy, Drew had forgotten to count the shots he had fired, filling him with surprise when he fired his gun and nothing happened. "Shit!" the bassist cursed. He had no time to reload; the zombies were well within ten feet by now. He quickly pulled out his handgun and began plugging away at anything that got too close.

"We're screwed!" Steve announced, firing madly at the crowd with his handgun. It clicked dry. He tried hysterically to reload it, but his shaking hands made it difficult.

Drew saw Chad biting his lips anxiously, trying to formulate some sort of plan. "Rob, Tony, Greg, stay here with the others."

"What are you talking about?" Rob asked, looking at Chad with the corner of his eyes as he shot a zombie in the head with his handgun. "I'm not liking the way you're talking, man."

"I'm going to give you guys some time," Chad said. With that said, he moved away from the group towards the zombies.

"No!" Kirsten shrieked. "Don't go!"

"Chad! Think this over!" Josh yelled. "You don't have to do this!"

His words were wasted. Chad ran as fast as he could into the crowd, pushing and shoving his way past them. His plan worked. THe zombies suddenly shifted their attention to the prey that was moving past them. Many stood confused for a moment, deciding who to chase after, but nearly everyone of them decided to go after Chad. Both Rob and Josh made a move to follow him, but they were stopped by Drew and Tony respectively.

"Come on!" Josh yelled, struggling to free himself from Drew's hold. "You're just going to let him go like that?!"

"Yeah," Drew said into his ear. He kept his arms locked around Josh. "This is his choice! He's doing this to save us! You wanna take that away from him!"

"Damnit, Drew! Let me go! He's doing the same thing Zack did! How do you think it's going to turn out?!"

Drew was taken aback. Josh made a point, this _was _exactly like what had happened to Zack. That had been Drew's fault, despite what Josh thought. Josh had tried to help Zack, and he was doing the same thing here. Drew had stopped him, and now he was also repeating his past choices. He froze slightly, thinking deeply about what he was doing. Josh felt his friend's arms go slack and used the opportunity to break free.

Drew watched his friend go for a second before realizing what was happening. "Hold on, Josh! Come back!" He couldn't let his friend go, despite the logical portion of his friend telling him it would be safer to stay with the others. Logic didn't take into consideration the worth of Drew's best friend's life. Without thought, Drew gave chase for his friend.

xXxXx

A zombie lunged forward, but he was too quick. Josh stepped backwards slightly and placed his hands on the zombie's dirty shoulders, throwing the undead to the ground quickly. He didn't even bother killing it; he had to keep moving.

_Why did you have to go and pull a stunt like this? _Josh thought to himself. He moved forward quickly, dodging between zombies and keeping his handgun clutched in his sweaty hands. He didn't dare use it unless absolutely necessary.

He slid his way past a woman standing around stupidly and almost ran headfirst into a tall man with his right arm dangling loosely. Josh chose not to go around but charged faster at the man. He shoved the man to the ground and ran over his body. He saw Chad ahead of him, shooting zombies with his handgun, but the soldier had gotten too much of a head start. He was still at least twenty feet behind him. It may not have been far normally, but with all the walking cadavers blocking his path, twenty feet may as well have been a mile.

A large, fleshy woman blocked his view of the soldier he was following. He placed his foot on her fleshy chest and kicked, toppling the giant. His efforts were futile though, a wall of human flesh separated him from his quarry.

"God damn you!" Josh shouted hysterically, his voice full of anger and vigor. "Get out of my fucking way! Damn you! Damn you!"

He hadn't realized it, but Josh had pulled out the cleaver he had kept from the hotel. He swung it like a madman now, trying to cut his way through the wall of walking dead.

_Not again! _Josh's mind roared, consumed by a gigantic fire whose only fuel was anger and rage. _Not again! I will not let another person die! _His strength seemed limitless, but it came at a price. His mind went dull, controlled only by his animalistic instincts. He could actually smell the blood in the air and taste the bit that had landed on his lips. He swung the cleaver again and again, chopping at skulls and necks.

BAM!!

The sound of the bullet shooting from the gun was what snapped Josh out of his trance-like state. He froze with the cleaver held high above his body, ready to strike the next undead thing. For the first time, he felt the blood that had drenched his face and bare arms. He felt the blood that had soaked his shirt, making it stick to his chest. He looked around dumbly, seeing the bodies around him. There were five of them, all with various sorts of hacks and lacerations engraved in their bloody skulls. He brought the cleaver down in front of his face, amazed at the collection of blood and grime that had collected on it.

"Pay attention!" someone yelled. Whoever that someone was, they grabbed Josh by the back of his t-shirt collar, yanking him back. The stench of death washed over him and he realized that whoever had grabbed him had just saved him from becoming zombie food.

Josh turned, looking at his savior. He was surprised to see the young boy Michael gripping his collar with white knuckles. Josh didn't thank him—he should of, but he didn't—instead he yelled at him. "What are you doing? You shouldn't of followed me!"

"You shouldn't of followed _him_," the boy answered quickly.

That shut Josh up. He couldn't think of a word to say in rebuttal. Instead, Josh just turned back to the zombie Michael had helped him evade and popped off a shot into the poor bastard's cranium. He paid no attention to the after effects; he changed his focus to Chad's whereabouts, but the soldier was no where to be found. He had vanished into the throng of the undead.

"Where did he go?" Josh yelled angrily. "He's gone!"

"I don't know," Michael answered somewhat calmly, eyes scanning the crowd for danger. A man wearing a plain brown jacket that had been torn and bloodied approached the duo, but Michael stopped his progress with a bullet to the brain. "But we can't stay here to find out."

"Yeah," Josh nodded, seeing now fully how many of the zombies were still gathering around them. He admired the boy now more than ever. He was really starting to come into his own. There wasn't a single boy Josh knew that could handle a situation like this. Hell, Michael took the whole scenario much better than he. He smirked for a second. Surely if a boy his age could keep his cool, he could do better.

"Back to back!" Josh shouted. Michael quickly followed orders, resting his back on the drummers. Josh shifted, but Michael revolved with him. Josh raised his handgun and fired into the crowd of cadavers, successfully dropping one for good. He heard Michael firing behind him, the gunfire nearly deafening him from the range he was at, but that was the least of Josh's worries.

"I'm not leaving until we find the others!" Jsoh yelled over his shoulder, turning back to quickly to fire at a zombie. His first shot caught it in the neck, but he followed it with a quick shot to the zombie's right eye.

"Me either!" Michael answered.

Luckily for them, they wouldn't have to.

"Josh! Over here!" a voice called out from the other side of the cadaver wall. Josh looked to the sound of the voice, recognizing it for who it was. "Josh!"

"Drew!"

He saw a zombie fall to its knees a ways away, blood squirting out of the bullet hole in the back of its head. From his spot, he saw Chirstine step over the body, turning and firing at the other zombies around her to clear room. Immeadietely behind her, Drew followed, lugging around Steve with one side and keeping his handgun trained on the crowd with the other.

"Dad!" Michael yelled, running towards the duo, seemingly ignoring the undead around him.

"Wait, Michael!" Josh yelled, trying to stop him. He paused briefly to reload his gun before following, plugging zombies in the head whenever he deemed it necessary. The boy was lithe, tucking and dodging in between zombies deftly. Josh followed, but he had to use his physical force to push zombies out of his way.

The two groups moved their separate ways toward each other, trying to meet each other in the middle.

xXxXx

BAM!!

A faint fountain of blood poured from the creature's chest, but it didn't so much as flinch. Christine readjusted her aim, and her second shot caught the zombie in the cheek.

When Josh had took off, she had been momentarily stunned, all of them had been, all of them except Michael that is. He had immediately followed the drummer, with Drew being the next to give chase. With the two of them taking off, Christie felt she had no choice, especially since Steve had already begun making his move to follow them.

She had no idea what had happened to the soldiers behind her, but somehow the group of survivors had lost them as well. She could hear gunfire behind her, but it was moving farther and farther away. They must have gotten turned around somehow with all the chaos, and now, both groups were moving farther and farther away from one another.

"There's my son," Steve said excitedly behind her. She turned quickly, seeing the man point to his left. Christie followed the path of his finger to see Josh standing back to back with the teenager. The duo stood twenty feet away from them, twenty feet that would be hard to traverse. The zombies were gathered thicker around them, trying to converge together and overtake them. The two's back to back strategy was working well, but it would only last as long as long as their ammo lasted. And there was no telling how long that would last.

"They need our help," Drew said. He looked over to Steve who he still kept supported on his left shoulder. "Think you can move by yourself for a minute?"

"Anything to make sure my son will be safe," Steve answered. Christie saw the look of determination on his sweat stained face and knew he was telling the truth.

"Good," Drew nodded with a comforting smile on his face. "Now my hands are free to use this." He gestured to the shotgun clenched in his hands. "Let me take point."

Christie gave no objections. She stood where she was at, aiming carefully at the face of an old, zombiefied woman. She paused slightly.

_She looks like my grandma, _she thought stunned. Suddenly, her mind took her far away from the carnage at hand, away to her grandmother's house. She was seven again, watching television with her grandmother on her sofa. The house was filled with all sorts of scents—the smell of flowers mixed with the delectable aroma of baking goods. The scents combined, making her that much more comfortable. She leaned against her grandmother and gently closed her eyes, drifting off to slumber.

"Christie!" Steve yelled, snapping the waitress out of her trance. The images of the television and the scents of the house were torn from her, leaving her back in the nightmarish world she really existed in at the present.

The zombie who reminded her so much of her grandmother reached out for her, the grubby hands inches from Christie's throat. The gun had lowered slightly in her limp hands, but she quickly brought it back up, resting it on the zombie's forehead, right between the eyes. She closed her eyes as the gun jumped in her hands and the blood splashed across her face.

"Let's go!" Drew shouted. He fired the shotgun into a gathering of the undead, keeping it at chest level so the zombie would be blown back into the others. The zombies would get back up, but hopefully by that time, they would have passed over them. "Josh! Over here!"

Christie gasped loudly, choking down vomit. The feeling of the luke-warm blood on her face made her stomach spin. She turned away from the woman she had just killed, wiping her face off with her arm. She felt her body shake. She had killed some of these things before, but they had never taken this toll on her.

_Keep yourself under control, _she demanded. _You have to remember these aren't real people anymore. That wasn't your grandma. She died years ago. She barely looked like her anyway. Get a grip._

Christie sighed deeply, focusing her mind on the task at hand. She had to survive this ordeal first—_the time for emotional breakdowns could come later._

"Josh!"

"Drew!"

The groups were getting closer and closer together. The young boy, Michael had almost reached his father. He quickly darted past a zombie who just stood around stupidly. It realized that its prey had passed it and turned to give chase, but Drew stopped its progress with a bullet to the skull. The body fell to the ground in a pool of seeping blood. Josh walked right through the gore, seeming oblivious of the fact that he was standing in human blood. He wore a big smile on his lips.

"Dad!" Michael shouted with joy, embracing Steve's chest and wrapping him tight. "I was worried that the zombies got you."

"I should scold you for that stunt you pulled there," Steve said, patting his son's hand lovingly. "Though I don't think now is the time."

"Agreed," Josh said.

Christie glanced around, notcing that the zombies were approaching quickly on all sides again. Their numbers had thinned, so Christie figured they were on the edge of the crowd. There was still hope for them. She looked down to the handgun she held. It all depended on if there were enough bullets left in their guns.

"Stay close to me," Josh said, putting away his pistol in favor of his shotgun. "I'm getting us out of here."

Christie saw the look of pure resolution on the drummer's face and pondered what drove him so much. The will to survive? Surely, it could not be as simple and one-minded as that. She thought about Josh's brother. He had died before she had met the group at the hotel, and even then she had seen the effect it had taken on him. However, he seemed to have grown from that tragedy. It had given him the determination to survive, to never give up. Christie knew that even if Josh was thrown into a crowd of the undead unarmed, he wouldn't go down without clawing and kicking all the way through.

BOOM!

The shotgun punched its way through the skull of a larger woman with long, curly blonde hair. The group moved forward, guns ablazing on all sides. Christie carefully stepped over the body of Josh's kill while keeping her eye on a middle-aged man wearing a red-plaid coat. He shambled eagerly for her, one arm hanging limp, moaning deep in his throat. She didn't know how she could pick out his moan from all the others and the gunshots, but she knew she did.

Christie kept her gun trained on the man, yet she hesitated. It wasn't because she felt empathy for the creature—the time for empathy had passed, now was the time for surviving. She was conserving ammunition. As long as he keeped his distance, she wouldn't be forced to put a bullet in his brain.

The zombie-man fell behind the group and merged with the other zombies the group left behind. They were persistant, and not a single one stopped the chase.

The group moved forward swiftly and smoothly, cutting their way through like a mower through tall grass. Josh and Drew managed the front, funneling the zombies around the group with their shotguns. Christie saw the head of a zombie explode like a crimson firework as a slug connected with it. Another zombie quickly took its place, charging towards Josh with open arms. Josh didn't bother reloading his weapon or shooting it. He placed the gun in each hand, with the muzzle in his left hand and the stock in the right, and jammed the gun's middle against the creature's throat. Christie saw him grit his teeth heroically as he pushed with all his strength, toppling the creature over into the others. The creatures went down, and Josh pumped another slug into his gun.

"Just try to keep up," Josh yelled, looking back at the rest of the group with a sly smile.

* * *

_A/N: Wow, I am real sorry it took this long to get this chapter up, especially with no warning that it would take three months. As always, I want to thank you guys who keep reading. Special thanks to Raven Thornheart for helping me through my writer's block, and I'm sorry I've delayed your fic as long as I have. Anyways, please review, I'm anxious to hear your thoughts, and I'll try to get the next chapter up as quick as I can. I'll promise you this, you won't have to wait another three months (at least I hope so, lol). Also, just thought I'd mention that the story has finally reached the 100,000 word mark. Huzzah!_


	19. Respite

**Chapter Nineteen—Sanctuary**

"Do you think we lost them?" Drew asked, taking in deep breaths. The group had managed to break through the host of living dead—just barely at that—and had fled through the streets, trying to put as much distance between them and their pursuers as possible. They had cut through alleys and shops; all of them following Josh's lead. They must have traversed three blocks or so, but it was hard to tell.

Josh double-checked to make sure a parade of zombies was not still in pursuit. The group stood at the end of an alleyway, and Josh walked back the way they came. Poking his head out into the open air, he checked the area just as a child is taught to check for oncoming traffic. Left. Right. Left. He saw nothing but a lone, shambling zombie moving his way towards the alley Josh's group hid in. The man was a good fifty feet away, causing little concern.

Josh wondered how long the man would follow the group's trail. Could it follow their trail by scent? Or would it forget about them moments after Josh hid from view? He didn't hold enough interest in the matter to experiment. For safety's sake, he would just have to believe it would always follow him. He hastily trotted back to his friends.

"We'll be fine," Josh said to them immediately when seeing them. He looked over at Steve and saw the blood that had stained the man's jeans. "We can take a rest now if we move to an abandoned building. That is, if you'd like?" He directed this last question at Steve.

"Don't worry about me," Steve balked at the suggestion. His words were strong, but his face was contorted into a manifestation of pain and agony. Josh had to respect the man for his pure, unbridled determination, a far cry from his original character. Josh now understood how people could change quickly in times of stress.

_But how will it affect you? _his mind taunted. _Will you be stronger? Or will you break as easily as a pane of glass?_ Josh's lips drew tighter; his brow furrowed.

_I will not break so easily._

"Don't be stupid," Christie said. "If we don't do something about your leg it's going to get infected."

An uneasy silence hung over the group at the mention of the I-word.

In Raccoon City, infection and all forms of the word were as bad as the foulest word one could find in the dictionary. The word was simply taboo.

However, it got Josh thinking.

_What will we do if he is infected? Will he have to put him down as simply as if he was a rabid dog?_ Logic told him that was the only answer, but his heart would hear nothing of it. _There must be some other way, some way to fight, to stop it from turning him into one of them._

Finally, Drew cleared his throat and continued where Christie had left off. "It'll be better for us to lay low for a bit, catch our breath."

"I suppose," Steve said. Once again, his body spoke differently for his words. His words seemed dejected, downtrodden, yet there was a visible sign of relief etched on his face. "It's not like it will hurt anything."

"What about that place?" Michael suggested, pointing to a flower shop on the corner. "From the way it's positioned we can see zombies coming from three different directions. That way, we get a heads up when they're coming."

"Steve, that's one smart kid you got there," Drew said with a smile. Michael blushed at the compliment.

The group left the alley and moved across the vacant street towards the (hopefully) vacant shop. Josh's eyes darted side to side. He half-expected a swarm of zombies to materialize out of thin air. Or maybe some Screechers to descend from the rooftops. While he was at it, he could not rule out the possibilities of more soldiers shooting at them. That made the wheels in Josh's head turn again.

He thought of Chad sacrificing his life for everyone. In honesty, it was the only reason Josh had survived at all, but he wished he could go back and change it somehow. He thought of Rob, a man that in another life and time he could have become friends with easily. He thought of the others and could not help but wonder…Did they survive?

The group paused outside the shop. Pots had fallen from outdoor displays, spilling black earth and the plants they nourished to the cold cement with little care. The shades had been drawn on the windows, as had been the shades on the door's window. An OPEN/CLOSED sign was still visible. Josh was humored to see the CLOSED side displayed.

"Heh," he chuckled. "It's closed. Looks like we're going to have to come back later."

"Will you just open the damn door," Christie snapped with little humor in her voice.

"Sorry."

The door was shut tight against the frame. Josh prayed that it was not locked. He grabbed the door handle and pulled tentatively, expecting the door to be locked. Every other sign pointed to the place was on lockdown.

Surprisingly, the door did budge. When he saw that it was indeed unlocked, he opened the door completely.

And saw the gun pointed at his face.

Without thought, Josh drew his own handgun and pointed it in defense. He didn't see the person behind the gun. His mind had focused itself on the handgun only. When he didn't feel the pang of a bullet entering his skin, he slowly focused on the person holding the gun.

It was a woman, a fairly attractive one at that. Her chestnut colored hair was short but stylishly cut. She wore a white sweater covered in grime and a black miniskirt. On her feet, she wore brown boots that almost reached her knees. Her soft face was set into a determined glare. Her eyes moved up and down, measuring Josh up, trying to discover how big of a threat he was.

Josh gulped. He was at a sore disadvantage here based on the fact that his handgun was bone-dry. He had used all of his bullets fighting off the zombies in the streets. The only thing it accomplished now was that it served as a bluff. His only chance was to play this like a game of poker, and he had to bluff is way out of this hand. The only difference was, here the stakes were his very life.

Luckily for him, the woman sensed he was of no real threat and lowered her gun, tucking it away in a holster on her leg. Josh followed suit, tucking his empty handgun into the waistband of his pants. He breathed a sigh of relief as he did so. It suddenly felt to him as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had never had a gun pointed at him before, never had to stare down the dark barrel of death itself.

"Sorry about that," she apologized. "When you came in I thought you might have been a zombie, but it's clear that that isn't the case." She turned her back on him for half a second, calling out, "we got another survivor here."

Josh saw shadows move inside the store, and those shadows materialized into real people, real honest to God people. Josh's hopes rose when he saw these survivors. There were five of them in all, including the woman with the gun.

One of the survivors, an average sized man with a large, neat beard and buzzed hair, spoke up gruffly. "How many are with you?"

Realizing he was blocking the doorframe, Josh entered the shop, making room for his friends. "There's five of us here."

"Good," a woman with long red hair said. She wore a pair of jeans and a brown jacket over a white blouse. "We were starting to lose hope." She nodded in the direction of the women with the gun. "Jill was just ready to take us somewhere safe."

"Somewhere safe?" Michael asked with hope ringing clear in his voice.

"Raccoon High School, "Jill spoke. "There's already a group of people gathered there. It's safe. If you'd like, we could go there together."

"Are you sure we can trust them?" a man wearing thin glasses and a plain white shirt. "The man did pull a gun on you."

"You would have done the same, Sam," another woman spoke up softly. She wore an oversized flannel shirt, linking her to Sam who looked like the original owner of the shirt. She had short black hair tucked in a ponytail.

Sam just huffed, but didn't pursue the manner further.

"I don't want to stay here any longer than we have to, Jill," the bearded man said. "We've found another group, let's get a move on. I wanna check on Annie."

"Don't worry, Neil," Jill said. "I'm sure she is fine. When we left, she was sleeping sound, wasn't she?"

"Still wanna get back there. I've got a strange feeling in my gut, and I don't like it."

"But wait," Drew spoke up. "Steve here is wounded. He got shot in the leg, and he can't move very well."

"Well, he's going to have to try and make it to the high school," Jill said. "We've got a nurse there; she should be able to help. Neil can help him move along until we get there. It's only a few blocks anyway."

Josh looked with uneasy eyes to Steve. "Can you make it?"

"I can try," Steve answered with a sigh.

"Then it's settled," Jill said. "Let's go."

xXxXx

"So, how'd you come across, Jill?" Josh asked interestedly to Neil. Both of them were helping carry Steve along. Josh had his right arm around Steve's shoulder helping him walk, and Neil was on the other side.

"I met her at my store," Neil said. "I own a hunting/outdoor supplies store near the other side of town. Do pretty good too. Tourists come in to town and wanna check out the mountain and the surrounding forests, so they need supplies. I sell em to em."

Josh heard the hint of nostalgia in Neil's voice. He realized that the man already missed the life he once had, the live he'd never have again. He and Josh were one and the same. Josh knew he could never play music the same as before. Sure he'd play, that much was engrained in his soul and he'd play his drums, but it would never hold the same amount of passion. Not without Adam and Zack. Josh mentally shook himself, steeling his emotional defenses. Now was not the time to get all weepy and mushy.

"Is your shop where you got all your guns?" Steve asked. "I mean, I noticed you and your group had a fair amount of ammo."

"Yeah, most of it came from my shop, mostly the shotguns and rifles. Some of the others had their own personal guns before they came across me and Jill. Jill had her own weapons too. But what else do you expect from a cop?"

"She's a cop?" Josh asked, slightly surprised.

"Yeah, and a damn good one too," Neil answered. "Do you know of the STARS?" Josh shook his head. "Well, they're a special branch of the Raccoon City Police Department, kinda like our own SWAT team. Needless to say, she knows how to handle herself, and she's been through something like this before."

The last remark bowled the drummer over. "Wait, she's been through this before!? How?"

Neil smiled slyly before he said, "that's something she ought to fill ya in on. She tells the story much better than I ever could."

Josh made a mental note to talk to the woman at some point in time. She might even know what exactly was going on in the city of Raccoon City.

"Look there," Neil said, nodding his head towards a large building as they turned onto another street. "There's where we're headin."

Josh remembered the surprise he had when he saw how large and magnificent the hotel, Lux Cher, was, and he held the same reverence for the size of this school. It was massive, much bigger than the school Josh went to for his high school education. He supposed they were approaching the front entrance. The lawn was neatly trimmed with a few trees scattered around, giving it a pleasant look. The lawn led to a large set of stairs that led up to two double wide doors set right next to each other. A giant panel of reflective glass was set above the front entrance.

These features, however, were forgotten as easily as a discarded toothpick when Josh's eyes caught sight of the mob in front of the doors. Even from his large distance away from the school he had no trouble seeing who (more like what) was gathered there. They were zombies.

"Jill, come here for a sec," Neil called out. The officer politely obliged, falling back from her leading position. "Does it seem like the crowd is getting bigger?" Neil asked in hushed tones, but Josh and Steve had no trouble hearing him.

Jill took a look at the front entrance, thinking deeply. After some time she said, "yeah, sure does seem like it. Don't worry about it though. They can't get through there; it's blocked by solid metal grating. It'll take them days just to get through that, and there's another sheet immediately after that. By then, someone will have come to rescue us, I'm sure."

"But what if they don't?" Neil asked suddenly. "What if we're just abandoned here? Just left here to turn into one of those things?" As he spoke, his voice rose in temperament, and his face reddened with hot fury.

Jill was taken aback from the flare-up of anger, but she remained calm. "We can't think about that. That kind of talk gets us no where. All we have to do is just focus on surviving. That's all we can do."

Neil said nothing, nodding his head slowly.

"Besides," Jill continued. "Think about Annie, if you don't have any hope for this situation, how is she going to have any? You're all that girl has right now."

"Right. I'm sorry about that. It's just that…I think this is starting to get to me. I mean, we spent most of this morning looking for any survivors and we came across eight. Eight! And that's out of a population of over 100,000! What's that ratio? 99.9 percent of the population is undead?"

"Are you completely sure we're the only ones left?" Steve spoke up. "Who's to say that there aren't people holing up in other buildings?"

"We've checked them all."

"Really? But this is a large city. There's a lot of building here. We can't be the only ones left."

Neil opened his mouth to object, but he shut it after consideration. There was no point to argue about something they had no control over.

"How are we supposed to get in there?" Josh asked. "I assume there's another way in."

"Of course," Jill answered. "We've been using the back loading docks to get in and out. The zombies don't seem to notice the back. They come from the streets; so naturally, the only entrance they see is the one where all the others gather."

"They like to gather in large groups," Neil said. "As predictable as it makes them, it's far more dangerous for them to be traveling in one giant mob."

"Yeah," Josh agreed, his mind playing the days events over again for him. "Is that the largest group you've seen of them so far?" He made no mention of the hundreds him and his friends had encountered when the bus had flipped. He made no mention of Chad.

"For me it is," Neil said. He started moving forward, following Jill's lead. Josh readjusted his grip on Steve and kept up with Neil.

"I've seen more," Jill said. "Before I came across Neil, I ran into what had to be almost a thousand. I just turned a corner and there they were, shoulder to shoulder across the entire street. I don't know why they were all gathered there, but I booked it out of there. You can be damn sure of that." She nodded to an alleyway on the right side of the road. "We're going to have to duck down here to get around them. Don't want any extra attention."

The alley was small, cramped and reeked of stale garbage, but Josh didn't mind at all. As long as they were out of sight from them he could bear it. Still, he was glad when the group emerged on the other side.

The school lay on the other side of the building, out of their view, but Jill and Neil knew exactly where they were going. Everyone followed silently, conscience of what they were doing, trying to avoid the mass of undead. Josh doubted the zombies would hear them if someone spoke, but no one seemed willing to take the risk.

Steve panted loudly in Josh's ear. Josh turned towards the injured man and saw how red and clammy his face was. Steve glanced over at him furtively before turning his attention back to the ground in front. Garbage and junk littered the ground; Josh and Neil did their best to help Steve avoid tripping over them.

The trio quickly began to fall behind the others. Josh did his best to move Steve along, but their pace was ultimately decided by Steve. Josh glanced towards the man named Sam and the woman he was with, Sarah. They moved quickly, hands clamped together tightly. They would let nothing separate them.

_I wonder what their story is, _Josh thought. _How much have they seen? How much have they dealt with? That goes the same with everyone else. How many people have seen what we've seen? The Clickers, the Screechers—do they even know they exist, or do they think zombies are our one concern?_

He glanced over towards Jill. _She must know. Neil said she's been through this before. Did she encounter those creatures? _Then, a chilling thought crept into his mind. _Did she see more creatures like those we've yet to see? _His mind tried to conjure up images of creatures worse then the skinless being with the elongated tongue; he could think of nothing.

_Let's just hope it stays like that, _he thought grimly.

They were on the backside of the school now. Slowly, they began to move across the lawn towards the brick walls the building, avoiding the streets and the dangerous inhabitants of them. The building cornered suddenly, and Jill disappeared around that corner.

It was of course, the loading dock. There were two ramps set on each side of the raised dock, but both of them had been blocked by piles of various objects—boxes, chairs, tables, and even bookcases. The only way onto the dock was climbing onto the raised platform which was about chest high.

"Sorry about this," Jill said to Steve. "I know this isn't the best way for you to get up, but we had to block off the ramps. Climbing slows them down a little. Just another little precaution we took."

"I can manage it," Steve said. Regardless of what Steve thought of his condition, Neil climbed up first and helped him up. Josh climbed up last.

Jill moved towards a large steel door on the side. She rapped on it quietly with her knuckles.

"What's the password?" a voice called out from the other side.

Jill chuckled softly. "Come on, Vince, you know there's no password. Now just open up. We got some survivors with us."

Josh heard bolts and locks being turned on the other side, and then the door opened, revealing an old man with gray hair wearing a white work shirt rolled up to his elbows and a pair of blue jean overalls. He held a shotgun in one hand, letting it rest nonchalantly on his shoulder. Josh noticed a magnum revolver holstered to his hip as well. Strangely, the man reminded Josh of John Wayne, though this man was plumper. He half expected the man to let out with a cowboy drawl, "well howdy, pilgrim," but the man did no such thing.

Vince, instead, flashed a warm smile. "Guess I just got caught up in my guard duties, Jill. All I do is sit here, so I keep imagining I'm guarding a secret military base. So I thought we'd need a password. I was thinking something like, Drowssap. You know password backwards? It'd keep 'em guessing."

Josh smiled at the man's antics. The man certainly was a strange one, but Josh already began to grow a fond liking to him. In a lot of ways he was John Wayne, but in another set, he was Zack Hunter.

"How long have you been at post?" Jill asked.

"Well, that's the thing," Vince answered with a half smile and a nervous scratch to the back of his head. "Might have been no more than twenty minutes."  
Jill chuckled. "Twenty minutes in and you're already drifting off into la-la-land. Alright then. Say hi to our new guests, Vince."

"Hello, I'm very glad to see all of you."

"Likewise," Michael said.

"We've got plenty of food here," Vince continued. "Head down to the kitchen and Jim will hook you up."

"Take care, Vince," Neil said. "Oh, with the new addition of survivors, I think we can afford to send you some company up here. This should be a two man job anyway."

Vince nodded, watching the group take their leave.

The group's footsteps echoed in the bare hallways. Josh was surprised, for some reason he had expected the halls to be in complete disarray with books strewn about the ground from fleeing students.

"Why isn't there stuff strewn all about?" Josh finally asked, letting his curiosity get the best of him.

"We cleaned up a bit," the woman with red hair spoke. Since meeting up with the survivors, Josh had learned her name was Elise, but that was all he knew about her so far. "Some of us decided to clean up the main hallways, just to make some room. We didn't touch some of the side hallways because no one ever goes down there."

"The layout here is pretty simple," Sam said. "This is the main hallway. You can follow it from one end of the building to the other, but it twists and turns here and there. Some side halls branch off here and there, but they almost always connect back to the main hallway at some point. About halfway down are the main offices; they're by the front door. Over there," he pointed to where another hallway branched off, "is the gymnasium. The locker rooms are down there and there's a pool too."

"Where is everyone?" Christie asked.

"They kind of just drift around, doing what they want," Neil said. "Most people head to the library or the gymnasium. Otherwise, they're probably resting in one of the classrooms."

"And here," Sam said, pushing open another set of door doors, "is the cafeteria. "I bet you guys are hungry. You can catch some food here, but its nothing special."

Drew smiled, showing an unusual amount of teeth. "You have no idea how good that sounds right now."

xXxXx

"Damn, this is a good," exclaimed Drew. "Mayonnaise aside, this is the best damn sandwich I've ever had in my life."

"I never thought I could be so hungry," Christie said with a mouth so stuffed full of food one could barely make out a word. Everyone took a brief glance at one another before laughing loudly.

"How very ladylike," Drew said with a laugh. Christie punched him playfully in the arm.

Josh had forgotten how good it felt to laugh and relax. Here, sitting at the lunch table with his companions, it was easier to forget (but not completely) about the hell outside the walls. Here, they were safe.

Together, the group sat. Neil and Jill had taken Steve to the infirmary, but Elise, Sam, and Sarah had stayed.

"Jim is great with the kitchen," Sam said. He sat next to Sarah, holding her left hand with his right, though Sarah said nothing. She sat silently, eating slowly and gingerly. Josh watched her questioningly. Since he had met her, she hadn't said a word. It was like she was completely shut off from the world. "He worked as a chef in some fancy-pants restaurant," Sam continued. "He might not have the best ingredients in this cafeteria, but he can work with what he's got."

"Where's my dad?" Michael asked. Josh looked at the boy and saw that he had hardly touched his food, despite the hunger he felt. The boy had taken a few bites from his sandwich, and the stack of chips didn't look any smaller to Josh at all.

"Oh, he'll be alright, honey," Elise said with gentleness in her voice. Josh didn't think Michael appreciated being called honey by a stranger at his age—Josh knew he wouldn't have liked it at that age—but Michael voiced no objection.

"How do you know?"

"Well, we have a nurse here. Her name is Lauren, and she's a really good nurse. Your dad is with her right now getting his leg all patched up. No more boo-boos."

Josh raised an eyebrow at her, wondering once again if the woman understood that Michael was indeed almost a teenager and not a toddler. Josh noticed Michael look at her questioningly as well, but once again, the boy said nothing else. Still, her words seemed to have some sort of healing effect on him, for he started eating his sandwich finally.

"If you don't mind me asking," Josh spoke up. "How did Jill and Neil find you?"

Sam looked over to Sarah, staring at her for a second. Finally, he spoke up. "In all fairness, we should probably save the serious talk for later. We just got here; let's try to keep this lighthearted."

Josh sensed something lying under the surface of his words, something both of them wanted to forget. Josh understood this and said no more.

They ate silently, enjoying their meals.

Suddenly, Josh yawned deeply. The yawn spread from one to another as easily as a virus passing from one to another.

"Man, never realized how tired I was," Josh said, stretching.

"Remember? You never rested last night," Drew said. "You were on guard."

"I'm sure you can find some place to rest," Sam said. "All of us could use some. We managed to find some emergency blankets, but we're short on supplies. You might be able to find something though."

"Alright, thanks a lot," Josh said, standing up. "I think it's about time I go find someplace to lie down then."

"Me too," Drew said, standing up. Christie said the same.

"I'm going to check on my dad," Michael said, pushing the half-eaten sandwich away.

"I'll help you guys find someplace to crash," Elise spoke up. "I'm done eating anyway."

With that, the group left the lunch table, leaving just Sam and Sarah. Sam looked at the eyes of his beloved, but she did not return the look. He gave her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze, but her hand still lay limp in his.

"Sarah? Sarah, do you want to go lie down?" Sam asked, tears swelling in his eyes. Very slowly, she nodded her head up and down. Sam wrapped his arm around her, and hugged her tightly, kissing her on the cheek. "It's going to be okay," he said weakly. "It's going to be okay."

xXxXx

"Ouch! Would you be careful?!" Steve hissed in pain as he felt fire shoot up his leg.

He sat on the only table in the infirmary of the school. The room resembled a typical doctor's medical room. The room was even painted in that same stark, clean white that all doctor's offices seemed to be in. A plump woman with black hair kept in a ponytail poured disinfectant on his gun wound. Her name was Lauren, and she was a nurse from the Raccoon City Hospital. She treated his wound effectively, though she did nothing to lessen his pain.

Lauren readjusted the glass on her round nose and said, "suck it up, you big baby."

"Big baby, huh? Is that how you treat all your patients?"

Lauren shrugged. "Only the ones who bitch and moan when they're fine."

Steve gave her a questioning look. "You call getting shot in the leg being 'fine?'"

"The bullet's out, isn't it?"

"Dad?" a voice called out from behind Steve.

Steve tried to turn to greet his son, but he was stopped firmly by Lauren.

"Don't move!"

"Come here then, son," Steve said, happy to see his son.

Michael came over and stood next to him, and Steve wrapped his left arm around his son's shoulders.

"How's the leg, dad?"

"Getting better," Steve said. "In no time I'll be running with…damn Lauren, could you try and be gentler!" He winced in pain as the nurse bandaged up his leg.

"Sorry," she said with absolutely no guilt in her voice. "Have to make sure it's nice and tight so it doesn't come off."

"How is everyone here?" Steve asked, ignoring Lauren for a moment. "Are they treating you nicely?"

"Yeah," Michael answered. "Everyone here is nice. Though that Elise girl keeps treating me like I'm a baby."

Steve looked at him with a mock expression. "And you're not?"

"No!" Michael shot back quickly. "I'm almost thirteen years old!"

"Oh, my fault. I thought you were only five."

Michael crossed his arms, fixing his father with a stern look. "Come on, dad." Steve smiled inside. In truth, he would never mistake his son for being young. If it wasn't for his size, he would have swore his son was in his teens. There were times where the boy was so mature he would act twice his age, as was the case since the outbreak had started. Michael handled all of the death and carnage just as well as an adult, maybe even better. The gun the boy carried was a testament to this fact.

Lauren pulled tightly on the bandages once more, causing Steve to grimace in pain. "All done," she said. "Try to stay off of it as much as possible. If you put too much pressure on it, the wound may reopen again."

"Thanks, a lot," Steve said, sliding off the table carefully. He winced in pain as his leg connected with the ground, but he got used to it. After moving around a bit, he started to feel better already. "Come on, son. Let's go give this place the once over." He placed his hand on Michael's shoulders and led him out of the infirmary.

xXxXx

"Here you go," Neil opening the door into one of the many classrooms of the school. He stood to the side, ushering in the others like a butler in a mansion. "Sorry that we don't have any real beds here. These sleeping bags are all we have, so you're going to have to lay down on the floor."

"That's fine with me," Drew said, stretching and yawning. "I'm so tired right now I think I could fall asleep standing up."

"Alright, you can do that, and I'll take your sleeping bag and pillow," Christine said.

"I don't think so."

"Thanks a lot, Neil," Josh said.

"No problem, man," Neil said, giving a friendly smile. "Now you guys rest up. Who knows, we may be able to leave her soon."

Neil's words were innocent enough, but Josh understood what he was really saying. He wanted them to be rested in case the zombies somehow got in, in case they needed to make a quick escape.

Neil nodded, shutting the door behind him as he left the room.

Josh stood, looking over the room. The room looked to be some sort of math homeroom, judging from the posters and projects on the wall. The desks had been removed from this room, probably being used to form a barrier in some other area of the school. Even the teacher's desk had been taken out. The floor was a little dirty, but it was the least of Josh's concerns at this point. He laid his sleeping bag out and lay on it, resting his head on the pillow Neil had given him.

Christie, Drew, and Elise all followed suit. They positioned themselves around each other in a circle. Josh wasn't sure if they did intentionally or if it was some part of their psyche that demanded they stick together.

"Well, I guess, nothing left to do but rest," Elise spoke suddenly. "Goodnight everyone."

"More like good morning," Drew mumbled, already half-asleep. "Night's already passed. It's the morning, remember?"

"Regardless, sleep well," Christine chimed in.

Josh said nothing, only closed his eyes, and tried to drift off into slumber.

xXxXx

_He was trapped in a sea of nightmares. He thrashed about as images pulled him from one way to the next. This was like no other dream he had ever had. There was no coherent thought. There were only images and sheer terror._

_Through all the images he saw one current theme. The face of his brother. One moment he was gazing into the face of his joyful brother, the next, Zack's face began to morph. Skin fell off in bloody clumps, exposing the rotting muscle underneath. Josh watched in horror as his brother become one of the living dead right in front of his eyes._

_He could smell the stench of blood and death in the air, and it washed over him, choking him, gagging him. He couldn't breathe._

_Suddenly, Zack's mouth opened, revealing rows of yellow, gnarled teeth. His mouth kept growing wider and wider until it encompassed everything in Josh's vision. He floated above his brother's gaping maw and peered into the blackness. Inside he saw a burning inferno. The flames belched and heat was scorching._

_In the fire he could see familiar faces. All of them, groaning in agony and pain. There was Terry, there was Adam, there was his brother, there was Chad, and other nameless faces. The last of these he saw was the man in the business suit. His face was not pulled into a torturous grimace—in fact, quite the opposite. There was a small defiant smirk on his face as he walked forward, towards Josh._

_The man's suit erupted into flames, but the smirk never left his face._

_"No!" Josh screamed. "Stay away! Stay away!"_

_The man said nothing as his skin began to melt in front of Josh's eyes. He moved forward until he was next to Josh. He turned, pointing one of his charred arms towards the fire his friends resided in._

_"Because of you," the man whispered to him without moving his mouth._

_"No!" Josh said, shaking his head. "No!"_

_The man's smirk grew larger as he began nodding his head in mockery of Josh._

_The man turned back to Josh. He reached out with his hand, stretching it towards Josh's face. The drummer could see the skin melting off the man's hand before his eyes. The man's skin and muscles were eaten away by the intense flame. Only the bones remained as his hand touched Josh's forehead, branding him. Immediately, pain shot through his entire body. It was immense. He was in agony._

_"Ahhhh!" Josh screamed in agony as his flesh began to burn. _

xXxXx

Josh managed to catch the scream before it could escape his mouth; it died in his throat. He looked around, realizing he was already sitting up. He wiped the sweat from his brow. It was still mid-afternoon. Sunlight drifted in through the windows, but with the curtains pulled it was still dark. He could tell the time by the clock above the door stating the time as 4:45 in the afternoon.

Already, the terror he had felt fled from his mind. He couldn't even remember what had scared him so shitless. All he remembered was the smell of something burning, and searing pain in his forehead. He touched the center of his brow gingerly at first, half expecting there to be some sort of great wound there. Of course, he felt nothing but his sweat cooled skin.

He sighed, laying his head against the pillow. He needed more rest, but he wasn't sure if he could achieve anymore, anymore good sleep that is. As soon as his eyes would close his mind would automatically take him back into that nightmare filled world, but the more Josh thought about it, the more he realized he'd prefer to spend time there instead of the real nightmare he was in.

Josh wondered if they would ever escape Raccoon City. He wondered if there would even be anything left of the world outside the city limits. He wondered what his mom and dad were doing right at that moment.

Slowly, he fell back into the realm of sleep.

* * *

A/N: Well, here it is once again. I apologize for the long wait again, but I've been swamped with college applications. Also, my mind was been working on another story. Hopefully, I can get that up soon and share it with you. Special thanks to all of you who have made it this far, and an even bigger thank-you to the faithful reviews. Also, I want to thank Bien for offering to beta-read this story. So sorry it didn't work out here, though. Nothing left to say here then, but take care.


	20. The Difficult Decision

_A/N: Wow! Another month passes and this damn thing finally gets updated. Seriously, I apologize about how long this took. The truth of the matter is I kept tweaking this until I had it where I could stand it, but it took awhile. Hopefully, this won't happen again, and I can deliver the goods quicker. Also, I want to say sorry to Bien once again. Sorry things didn't work out on this chapter either. Well, there's always the next. I guess that's enough of this my babbling. We both know why you're here, and it's too read a freaking story. That said, enjoy the latest chapter of Last Man Standing._

**Chapter Twenty— The Difficult Decision**

The silence was unsettling. After Josh had awoken from his mid-day nap, he had decided to take a shower to try to wash off the blood and grime that had accumulated. Neil had been kind enough to hand him a towel and a set of new clothes and had sent him towards the locker room.

Now, Josh stood in the locker room, listening to absolutely nothing, the overall effect quite disturbing. Silence made him think of death, made him think of the mute, empty shells the people of Raccoon City had become.

Josh hummed as a defense against the stillness. He hummed a tune straight from Last Man Standing's second album, Silent Echoes. The song was originally an instrumental, but Josh's voice managed to take the place of the ambient guitars and piano that were originally used. The melody was deliberate and haunting at first. As he hummed, he began to undress. He wrapped his body in the towel and moved towards the shower. As he turned the shower on, letting it warm up, the melody changed from slow and sorrowful to quicker and carefree.

As Josh watched the water bounce off the tile floor of the large shower room, and as he thought about the song he was humming, he suddenly wished he had his drum set with him. The drums were his way of letting go of his emotions, all of them, and right now, he had a lot to get off his chest. So many emotions were swirling inside him— pain, anger, sorrow— and they were starting to pull him apart.

Josh stopped humming as he stepped into the hot water, letting it cleanse his body. The water stung some of the cuts he had sustained (particularly the wound on his ankle from where the Clicker had wrapped its tongue), but he could handle the pain that came from it. He understood that the pain was good, for it cleaned the wound.

Josh grabbed a bar of soap and began to wash the blood off his face and body. He watched the crimson liquid swirl around the drain. There was so much blood on him; he could hardly believe it at first. Then, he thought about all the creatures he had fought just to get to where he was now. The amount of blood he washed from himself wasn't so unbelievable then.

When he finished washing the blood and sweat off himself, he turned the shower off. He heard the gentle _drip _of the water drops falling onto the tiled floor that echoed through the showers. Josh listened carefully. The sound was actually peaceful. As he listened, he heard another noise, a noise that sent shivers up and down his spine.

He heard the same low, guttural moan he had heard all night.

Josh exited the shower area, towel wrapped tight around his waist, looking around carefully. He couldn't tell where the noise had come from exactly, but he was sure he had heard it. Josh looked to the pile of clothes that rested on a bench next to him. His handgun sat on the carefully piled clothes, but it would do him no good. It was still bone-dry.

_Stupid! _Josh thought. _What's the point of still carrying the damn thing if it has no ammo in it? You should have grabbed a clip before coming here._

Josh looked at the clothes Neil had given him. A fresh pair of jeans that fit him snug and a gray t-shirt with the High Schools mascot, a shark, on it. Josh wondered if Neil had pilfered them from a high school students locker, but he decided it didn't matter. Anything would suit him fine as long as it was fresh. He dressed quickly, not wanting the zombie to catch him while he was changing. He tucked the worthless gun into his waistband and moved forward cautiously.

He managed to make it to the door without seeing the zombie, but as he was leaving, he heard another low moan coming from the very back of the room, the only area (thank God) that Josh hadn't been to.

Josh shut the door behind him and dragged a large trash receptacle over to himself, placing it firmly in front of the door. It wouldn't do much, but that was all he could do now to halt the progress of the zombie. It would hold until he got back he hoped.

He turned away, moving quickly, but trying to remain as calm as possible. He had to find Neil or Jill, but until he did so he didn't need to cause anyone else to panic.

xXxXx

Neil sat in the library, book in hand and a child resting on his lap. The child sitting on his lap was named Annie. She was only five years old. Her head was full of brown, curly, bouncing hair with a red ribbon tied in it. She wore a red shirt and blue jean overalls.

"Hansel and Gretel were very tired and hungry," Neil read out loud. "Then, they came across a house made of bread and candy!" Neil looked down to Annie, smiling to her. "A house of candy. Can you believe it? Don't you wish your house was made of candy?"

"Ahuh!

Neil's smile grew even larger. "Well, I tell you what, when we get out of here, I'm going to build you a house out of candy. You can even live in it, as long as you don't eat it all."

Annie shook her head vigorously. "No, I won't eat it. I promise."

"Good."

Neil looked down, ready to continue the story of Hansel and Gretel, when he heard someone call out to him. "Neil, have you seen Jill?"

He looked up. Josh Hunter stood before him with a look of gravity and horror. Neil closed the book and set it down.

"Annie, do you think you can hop down for a sec? I gotta help out this nice man."

"But what about the story?"

He flashed the young one a smile. "We will finish later. I promise. Why don't you go see Mrs. Heathers and see if her son Todd wants to play?"

"Okay."

Neil watched her hop of his lap and walk towards another side of the library. When she rounded around a bookshelf out of his sight, he turned to Josh.

"What's going? You look like you just saw a ghost."

"Worse," Josh said. "Zombie."

Neil was bowled over for a second. He couldn't believe it. _Is he kidding? _Neil thought to himself. _We searched high and low through this place. We made sure that there were absolutely no zombies here. Could we have missed one? _He thought about the many hours he and others searched for the living dead, and he thought of how little he had found. They had cleared the place. _Impossible. He couldn't have seen a zombie._

Neil stood up, moving closer to Josh so others wouldn't hear their conversation. "Where did you see it?"

"In the men's locker room," Josh answered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I finished taking my shower, and I heard it moan. I didn't look for it though." He gestured to the gun tucked in his waistband. "I'm completely out of ammo."

"Come on," Neil said, walking past Josh. "We gotta find Jill. She's going to want to know about it."

Neil worried. He believed Josh. He had only known the man for a little while, but it had been clear that he had been the leader of the group he was with. He had seen that from the way he bluffed Jill with the empty gun. The man had an idea of how to handle himself in this situation. He had to have. Otherwise, he wouldn't be where he was right now; he'd be with the walking dead outside.

Still, his faith in the newcomer meant that they had indeed missed a zombie. If they had missed one, who was to say they hadn't missed another? Perhaps a whole group still roamed the halls or sat in a classroom, waiting to claim some victims.

_Worry about this one zombie now, _Neil's reason told him. _That is a real threat right now. After that, you can bust your brain in figuring out how that zombie got there and if there are any others._

Neil focused on the now and saw the back of Jill. She had taken off her sweater and tied it around her waist, revealing the blue tube top she wore underneath.

"Jill!" Neil called out. "Could you come here for a sec?"

The police woman turned around and approached the duo. She must have seen the look of apprehension on Neil of Josh's face, for her countenance instantly turned to a frown. "What's going on? Something wrong?"

"Very," Neil answered simply.

Very quietly, Josh said, "I heard a zombie moan while I was in the locker room. Never had a chance to see it, but I know it's there."

"And you just left?" Jill asked. "What if it got out?"

"I didn't have a choice," Josh answered. "I was unarmed. When I got out I braced the door just as an extra precaution. I'm hoping it holds it in until we get back there."

"Alright," Jill said. "You did the right thing. You wouldn't be able to much damage to it without some sort of weapon. Take this." She pulled out another handgun. Josh took it, thanking her once it was in his hand.

Neil looked down to the magnum strapped to his side. He was armed and ready to go.

"Let's get there quickly," Neil said. "I don't wanna give it a chance to escape. I don't want anyone else to get in there either."

"Agreed," Jill said. "Let's get there quick, but don't make anyone suspicious. We don't want to cause a panic."

Coolly, Neil walked with Jill and Josh. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, trying to remain inconspicuous. It seemed to work, for no one stopped them or even passed them a second glance as they moved down the halls. Finally, the trio turned down the empty hall that led to the men and women's locker rooms. Neil saw the large trash receptacle placed against the door. Luckily it looked unmoved, meaning whatever Josh had heard moan was still trapped inside.

Josh pushed it to the side and stood to the side. "You guys ready to do this?"

Jill didn't answer; she was silent and poised to take action. Neil had seen her like this before. She sharpened her senses like this and focused on her surroundings, ready for anything.

Neil didn't answer either, but he responded by pushing the door open and stepping inside, gun raised.

At first, the silence hit him just as it had hit Josh earlier. It crept under his skin, making his hair stand on end. He had never realized how quickly he had readjusted to the noise he and the other survivors had made. That's when he realized that noise was life. Life made noise, and death made nothing.

Neil swallowed hard. He kept his gun at the ready. He wouldn't let any zombie get a jump on him.

"Where is it?" Jill whispered softly.

Josh shook his head.

At the sound of Jill's voice, a moan echoed throughout the empty locker room. The trio snapped towards the direction of the moan. At the far end of the locker room, past the showers and lockers was a section that split off. That area withheld the bathroom, and apparently, a zombie as well. Jill nodded to the direction of the bathroom and moved towards it. Neil followed with Josh tagging along quietly.

They entered the bathroom silently. On one side of the room was a countertop full of sinks. One the other side were the stalls and urinals. Neil's eyes were drawn to a pool of blood. The source of the crimson liquid lay near, half hidden under the stall. All Neil could see of the corpse were the pant legs and the shoes of the unlucky casualty. The blood from the poor soul's wounds dripped slowly into a nearby urinal. The soft _drips! _seemed to echo throughout the silent room as loudly as the fire from the gun he held in his sweaty palms.

"It's in one of the stalls," Josh whispered into Neil's ear.

_But which one? _Neil thought. _There's gotta be at least ten of them. It could be in any one._

"We'll have to check them one by one," Jill said.

"I'll go to the opposite end, work my way towards you two," Neil offered. "It'll go quicker that way."

"Alright," Jill said, nodding. "Just holler when you need help. We've got you covered."

Josh's eyes locked with Neil. His face was set in grim determination. That was all the reassurance Neil nodded from him.

Slowly, Neil moved down the hall of stalls. As his feet moved, one in front of the other, the dripping of the blood still seemed to echo throughout his skull.

_Drip! Drop!_

His hand stretched outwards.

_Drip! Drop!_

He rested his palm on the door.

_Drip! Drop!_

He took a deep breath

_Drip! Drop!_

He pushed the door open.

The stall was empty.

Neil sighed with relief. _One down._

He moved to the next stall, trying to get the annoying dripping out of his head. (_Drip! Drop!_) He found nothing in that stall, or the next.

However, when he moved onto the fifth or so stall, he heard something on the other side of the door, slow, raspy breathing. It sounded like someone on the other side was trying to catch their breath.

"Hello?" Neil said quietly. "Is there someone there?" Now that he heard the breathing, he began to think that it wasn't a zombie on the other side. More likely, it was an injured person. Neil had yet to hear a zombie breathe heavily like that. His left hand reached out, resting on the wooden body of the door. His right hand gently tensed around the magnum he held.

_Be careful, _Neil thought. _Just because you think it's a person doesn't make it a person. It could be a zombie. Just breathing hard, that's it._

He swallowed hard as he pushed the door open.

Neil's blood froze over as he stared at the inhabitant of the stall. It was a zombie, but it was like no zombie he had ever seen. This zombie was completely red, a dark, crimson red. It almost seemed like he had no skin, just dark red muscles and thick veins. It breathed heavily, its misty, rancid breath washing over Neil's face.

But perhaps the most frightening aspect of the zombie was the moustache that still hung above its pursed lips. _I've seen that before, _Neil thought stupidly. _It was on a zombie that we killed before. This is the same zombie Vince shot earlier. But that doesn't make any sense. How did it change? How did it come back?_

It growled, uttering an almost feral cry before lashing out at Neil. It swung massive, sharp claws at him. Neil reacted quickly, jumping backwards, but not quickly enough. His chest lit up in fiery pain as the claws dug through his shirt and into his skin. He cried in pain and fired his gun. The shot went wide, ricocheting off the tiled wall.

The crimson zombie lunged again, this time trying to bite into him. The gun dropped from his hand. Neil managed to get his hands up, one on the zombie's neck, the other pushing against its shoulders.

"Neil!" Jill called out. Neil could see her out of the corner of his eye. Both Jill and Josh had their guns pointed at the creature, yet neither of them took the shot.

_Take the shot damnit! _Neil meant to shout out, but he merely thought the words instead. _I can't hold this thing off forever. _This zombie was stronger than the others. Already, he could feel the strength in his muscles being sucked away. When he didn't think he could hold it off any longer he closed his eyes and shouted, "Just shoot the fucking thing!!"

_Bam!! Bam!!_

Jill and Josh seemed to fire in unison. Neither of them managed to hit the thing in the head, but they managed to shoot it in the side, distracting it. It forgot about Neil and charged at its two new opponents. Neil watched it move in horror. It sprinted so quickly. He had seen zombies moved quickly, but they never managed a speed over a jog. This crimson zombie moved like an Olympic sprinter. It ducked down low and sprinted towards the duo.

Josh was caught off guard, firing a couple of shots that did nothing to slow its progress. Jill remained calm, taking careful aim. It articulated another animalistic cry as it neared her. Still, she didn't move. Finally, when it was close enough, she squeezed of a shot point blank into its skull. Its momentum carried it further as it crashed onto the tiled floor and slide along a few feet, leaving a trail of blood behind it.

Neil barely noticed any of this; his mind was encompassed by one simple fact: he was infected. He looked down to his bleeding chest and began to cry. _It's over for me,_ he thought. _I'm infected. I've been fucking infected. I'm as good as dead. _He dropped to the ground, staring down at the tiled floor.

"Neil?" Josh called out, rushing over to him. "Are you alright?"

"No," Neil choked out between sobs. "I'm not okay. I've been scratched. I've been fucking scratched."

"Oh my God," Jill said as she looked down at him.

"What are we going to do?" Josh asked grimly.

Jill and Neil didn't answer. Jill only kneeled down at embraced Neil. The latter began sobbing against her shoulder, and she did all she could to console him. Josh just stood off to the side, watching morosely.

"How'd that thing get in here anyway," Josh finally asked. "You said you looked everywhere and cleared the place."

"We did," Jill said, still comforting Neil. "I know we looked in all of these stalls. There was a zombie in one, but we killed it. Vince shot it with a shotgun, point blank in the chest. I checked its vitals and everything."

"Well there wasn't any mark on its chest," Josh said. "I noticed that. If you shot it with a shotgun, there'd be some kind of mark."

"We definitely killed that damn thing," Neil said between his sobs. "I remember that weird moustache when we killed it the first time."

"It must have healed itself even after it died and managed to resurrect itself," Jill said. "I think Chris said something about that back at the mansion."

"Chris? Mansion?" Josh asked.

"No time to explain," Jill said, managing to get Neil onto his feet. "Let's get out of here." She began to lead the larger man out of the locker room. Josh stayed behind for a minute. He stood there silently, watching the two walk off. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving Josh all alone.

"FUCK!!" Josh yelled as soon as the others had left, kicking one of the stall doors. It reverberated off the frame of the stall, clanging loudly. He paced up and down the aisle of stalls, muttering to himself and running his right hand through his hair. "Why did this have to happen? Why did I have to bring them here? Why did that have to happen to him?" He walked over to the crimson zombie, staring down at its lifeless body. Finally, he grew exasperated just looking at it. "Fucker!!" He kicked it hard in the ribs, twice. He stormed out of the locker room, shedding silent tears.

xXxXx

"Why don't you just kill me now?" Neil moaned, his eyes still red from the tears. Josh hated to hear him sound like that. He sounded so weak, so dismal. The two were in a janitorial supply closet. The room smelled slightly of chemicals, but it was neatly kept. Jill and Josh had decided it would be best to keep Neil locked away by himself for a little while

The drummer paused in his knot-tying for a second, thinking it over. _That is an interesting question. It would make more sense to kill him now before he turns. But I can't do it. Not when he's sitting here, tied to a chair, tears in his eyes. What kind of person would I be then?_

"You don't have to turn," Josh finally answered. He didn't necessarily believe it— though he wanted to believe it, with all his heart— but it was a comforting thought. "We don't know if everyone is infected by this. You could fight this thing off."

"Maybe," Neil scoffed. "Probably not. Does it look like anyone's managed to fight it off to you? This thing looks damn near one-hundred percent lethal to me."

"Yeah, but do you know for sure?"

"I guess I don't."

"Good," Josh said, finishing up the final knot and giving it a firm tug. Neil winced a little, but he voiced no complaint as to how tight the rope was tied. "Now you just have to stay here, and if you need something…well I guess I'll just have to come back and check on you every once and a while. I've got nothing better to do anyway."

Josh turned to leave, but Neil called out to him. "What about Annie? Who's going to watch over her?"

Josh tried to give him his warmest smile, but he had a feeling it didn't look completely compassionate. "She's with a bunch of kind and caring people. We can watch over her. You have my word."

"Thanks," Neil said, closing his eyes. He let his head droop forward, staring at the ground. Josh felt horrible looking at him like that as he shut the door, trapping Neil in the closet. When it was shut, Josh locked it up with a padlock. He turned to Jill, who was leaning against the wall in the hall.

"Poor Neil," Josh said aloud, staring at the locked door.

"There's not much else we can do for him right now," Jill said. "All we can do is wait and see, and just make sure he doesn't hurt anybody." She turned away, walking down the hall.

"Wait!" Josh said, following. "Don't you want the keys back?"

"No," Jill said dismissively. "Neil was the one in charge of the keys. You hold on to them now. We got those from the janitor's body. I'm sure there's another set somewhere, but we haven't found any yet. That said, you're in sole charge of those things. That should keep people from finding Neil as well."

"Why don't you keep them?" Josh asked.

"I'm going out to look for more survivors later, and people will probably need them. I imagine you want to stay here for a little while anyway, right?"

Josh nodded, following the police officer. For some reason, he felt like a little kid again, doing whatever his mother told him to do. Still, he didn't mind it as much as he originally thought he would. It was a relief to have Jill nearby. She knew what was going on, and she knew what to do. She was the leader now, and that heavy crown of leadership had been lifted from Josh's head. In truth, he liked it. He liked not worrying about how his decisions would affect others. He liked not being directly responsible for the lives of others.

Jill and Josh walked on silently, but a question kept nagging at him. When he couldn't take it anymore, he spoke up.

"How long are we going to keep him there?" Josh asked with real concern.

Jill sighed. "Until he changes, I guess. We don't really have much of a choice otherwise. He can't be with the others because he might change and infect someone else, and I know Neil. That's the last thing he'd want to happen."

Josh looked dejectedly down at his feet as the two walked through the halls. "He said he'd rather die then wait when I was in there with him."

There was an awkward silence between the two, and Josh thought he knew what Jill was going to say before she even said it. "Then maybe that's what we should do."

"No!" Josh said stubbornly. He stopped moving, staring at the police officer. "We can't do that. We can't give up hope."

Jill looked around quickly, seeing if they were noticeable by anyone else. As an extra measure, Jill grabbed the drummer by the arm and dragged him into one of the classrooms near the two.

"Look, you have to know something," she said in a hushed voice. "Neil's been infected. He's going to turn, and I think the ultimate decision on whether he lives or dies is up to him. Don't you agree?"

"Yes," Josh said slowly. "But he isn't in his right mind now. He's too upset. Too much has happened to him."

"Too much has happened to _everyone_," Jill pointed out.

"Listen, I just don't see a reason to shoot Neil when he looks and acts fine."

"He isn't going to stay that way forever, you know?"

"No, I don't know that," Josh said. "He could get better. There have to be some people out there who are immune to this thing. No virus can infect one-hundred percent of the population. He could get better, and then what happens when I shoot him? I kill someone who doesn't need to die? I can't live with that. I can't, and I won't. I won't shoot him until I know for sure that he's going to change or he has changed."

"Fine," Jill said, holding her hands up to show she admitted defeat. "We'll leave him the way he is for now. I just wanted you know what I thought about it. Though I still think you need to think about it more." She began to leave the room. She opened the door and stepped outside. However, before she closed it, Jill turned and said, "just think of if it was you who was infected. Would you want to die before you turned into a zombie?"

Josh moved to the teacher's desk and sat down in the large, leather chair, listening to the door close. He took out the handgun Jill had given him in the locker room, placing it carefully on the desk. He sat there, staring at the gun.

_What if it was you? _a voice in his head asked. _You know you'd want to be killed before you turned. At least you would die as a human._

"I can't do it though," Josh said out loud to himself. He put his hands over his face, sighing into his palms. "I can't kill him when he's alive and well," he mumbled. "It seems so…so wrong. Almost like playing God."

_You're being selfish, _his voice argued. _This isn't supposed to be about you. This is about Neil. It's his decision and you already know what he picked._

Josh sat, staring at the gun. His mind seemed to be tearing him in two. He felt like a hunk of meat being fought over by two rapid, wild dogs.

Finally, he came to a decision. He picked up the gun and checked it to make sure some bullets remained. Actually, he'd only need one. He tucked the handgun in his waistband and went into the hall. He looked around quickly before turning towards the closet Neil was in. He walked quickly and purposefully…

Before he changed his mind.


	21. A Horrifying Tale

**Chapter Twenty-One— A Horrifying Tale**

"Have you seen Josh at all?" Drew asked Christie. She sat in the library, much like the other survivors. Drew noticed she had changed her clothes. She now wore a white jacket with a red blouse under it and a pair of blue jeans. She read a book by Dean Koontz, called "Midnight." She looked up from her book, shook her head, and continued to read. "Alright," Drew remarked. "He was still sleeping when we left the class room, but when I just walked by there, he was gone."

"Maybe he went to take a shower," Christie suggested. "I took one when I woke up."

"Yeah, makes sense," Drew said, sitting down next to Christie. He looked down at his own clothes and saw all the blood and dirt on them. "I could probably use one myself, and a fresh pair of clothes."

"I'll say."

Drew lifted his arm up and took a whiff of his underarm, grimacing at the stench. "Wow, I think I'm starting to smell like one of them." He stood up. "Guess I'll go take my own shower then. Maybe find a change of clothes too."

As he was about to leave, Sam approached them.

"Hey, guys," he said. "I see you woke up too." Sam looked at the book in Christie's hands. "You like Dean Koontz?"

"He's one of my favorite authors," Christie said, looking up from the book. "He writes some of the best characters I think. They're so believable, but so unique."

"I know exactly what you mean," Sam said, sitting down. "The way he writes his characters is one of the things I try to emulate most in my writing."

"You're a writer?"

Sam smiled. "I know it's hard to imagine someone with my great physique as anything but a body-builder," he said sarcastically as he gestured to his thin frame. "But yes, I kind of fancy myself a writer. A few of my short stories have been published in the paper and some other magazines. It was just a way of paying the bills as I worked on my big novel." He sighed. "Which is currently resting in the office in my apartment. From the looks of it, I'll never be able to get the rough draft back. Years of work all for nothing." Sam shrugged it off though. "Though when I get out of here, I'll have my big break. I'll be able to write about the horrors of this city. That would be the only good thing to come from this Godforsaken city."

"And you can tell the world what really happened here," Drew said. "I think people need to know, no matter how horrifying it is."

"Agreed."

Christie marked her place in the book and closed it. "Hey, Sam where's Sarah at?"

Sam's face grew sullen and downtrodden at the name of his wife. Drew noticed it right away, but Sam tried to cover it up by smiling. The look pained even Drew. He wondered what could have possibly happened to hurt the couple so much, but he realized he didn't have to imagine much. The world all the survivors knew now could do nothing but hurt.

"She's still sleeping," Sam said. "She's been through a lot and needs her rest, so I let her sleep."

"Sam, what happened with you two? You know, before you got here?" Drew asked quickly. Sam sighed, but didn't say anything, only stared down at the table. Drew continued. "Something bad happened, didn't it? Sarah hasn't said a word. It's like she completely shut her self down."

Sam sighed again, running his hand through his hair. "I guess there's no harm in telling anyone. Hell, might even help instead of keeping it all bottled up inside." He said those words out loud, but Drew understood that he wasn't speaking to Drew or anyone else. He was speaking to himself.

With that, Sam started his story.

xXxXx

_(A/N: Just so no one gets thrown off. The following is written in first-person, from Sam's point of view. Just filling you in.)_

Things had started out so great that night. Everything had been perfect. It was Sarah and mine's anniversary. Five glorious years. We went out to eat at the fanciest restaurant I could afford. We didn't make much. I was a struggling writer, still waiting to catch my big break, and Sarah worked as an English teacher in the elementary school. Still, five years was a big deal, so I spent a lot of money to get us a table at some fancy Italian restaurant.

"Where are you going?" I asked Sarah as she stood up.

"Bathroom," she answered with a thin smile.

My lips stretched into a small smile of my own. "Bathroom my ass. You're going to call the babysitter for the tenth time, aren't you?"

"Alright," she said, sitting back down. "You caught me. It's just; I'm not sure how much I trust Lori with our Madison. I mean, why couldn't we have gotten Mrs. Collins to watch her?"

"Mrs. Collins has gotten very sick," I pointed out logically. "She's come down with the flu and had to be taken to the hospital. The flu can do a number on people as old as her. Lori was the only person available on short notice."

"But she's only fifteen, Sam! How do we know she can take care of a six-month old baby?"

I reached across the table and placed her hand in mine. I locked eyes with her clear blue eyes, gleaming and flickering in the soft bath of the candle light. Her eyes were what drew me to her in the first place. They were so beautiful, set in her face like two precious diamonds. Her soft black hair was let down, resting lightly on her shoulders. She wore light blue dress that pronounced her delicate figure. At that moment, she had never looked more beautiful.

I leaned in to kiss her, prepared to feel her silky lips on mine, and that's when all hell broke loose.

They came through the front door, looking as if they had climbed straight out of the darkest pits of hell itself. I immediately smelled a horrible stench, one that reminded me of rotting garbage, and I found myself thinking once again that the crowd that entered the room had really crawled out of the hole of the dead and back into the world of the living. They grabbed a couple waiting for their seats near the front door. I didn't see what became of them because the crowd just moved over them, burying them in a sea of flesh and chaos. I didn't see what became of them, but I heard it. I heard the screams, I heard the sound of flesh being torn from bone, and I heard the gnashing of teeth.

I've wrote before about something so shocking, so brutal, that it froze the protagonist in his place. It was the sort of trick a writer would implement to increase the suspense and I guess there's some truth to it. There must be something so horrifying out there that would allow someone to be frozen in fear. Despite what was going on, I didn't freeze; I did the exact opposite. I suppose Sarah froze, but I didn't have the time to notice. I grabbed hold of her and pulled her with me. I think in some part of my mind I knew I was heading towards the back exit, but I think my major concern was putting myself and Sarah as far away from the creatures in the front door as possible. Perhaps it was only luck that allowed me to find that back door and fling it open madly, dragging my beloved wife behind me. Or maybe I did have an idea of what was going on.

I still don't know.

I looked left, right, and left again, panicking. My mind raced. Was there anywhere safe? Was there anywhere we could go? I didn't know, but I knew where I had to go. One single thought consumed me, and it was the thought of my baby girl resting in her crib while this madness occurred.

"Come on," I yelled, tugging on Sarah's arm and dragging her towards the alley's exit.

We stopped together when we reached the sidewalk. There was so much chaos. People ran, terrorized, the walking dead following closely behind. Just when someone thought they had escaped, they ran right into the arms of another. I saw this happen to a young man who was easily outrunning them, but when he looked back, just for a second, a split second, he was grabbed by a man in a construction hat. The larger man grasped the teenager's shoulders and bit deeply into his neck, spraying blood and ripping flesh.

Now I had frozen, but my mind kept churning. I seemed to see everything that happened. I saw a truck blazing through the street ran over everyone who stood in its path, living or dead. I saw people pulled down by mobs of the creatures. I saw their guts pulled from their stomachs as the creatures gorged upon the entrails.

"We can't stand here like idiots," I said, pulling once again on Sarah's arms.

I moved down the street, but I couldn't block out the horrors around me. Across the street, we passed a person standing on top of a car, a handful of people on the ground below pawing and grabbing for him. He desperately tried to keep himself free, but I knew he couldn't keep going forever. We kept moving on; we couldn't help him. I never stayed to find out what happened to that man, but I could form a reasonable enough guess.

"Sam!" Sarah called, pulling me back. Right in front of me, a body smacked against the pavement. I heard the bones crush; I felt the blood spatter against my clothes. My eyes pointed towards the sky, and I saw that the building I was next to had at least fifteen stories to its mass. Assuming that they had flung themselves from the roof, they certainly had fallen from a large drop.

I found myself staring at it, and I probably would have had Sarah not gently tugged on my arm. "Let's go, Sam," she whispered in my ear. "Some of them are starting to pay attention to us."

I looked around and saw she was right. A thin woman with her black hair dangling in her face began shuffling towards us, followed by a bald man in a green, torn sweater. Sarah grabbed my hand, interlacing her fingers with mine. I gave her my most reassuring smile, my own way of saying everything will be alright, I'll take care of you. She didn't return the smile, but I saw her eyes were much gentler.

We quickened our pace. The further we went, the more joined in the chase. Two became five, five became ten, and ten became fifteen. They came out of buildings, out of alleys, and others seemed to come alive as we went by them. We quickened our pace again, turning a jog into a run.

The crowd chased us, and we ran as fast as we could. It seemed so hopeless, everywhere we went there were more to chase us. We could find no escape, and both of us were quickly growing tired. Not to mention, Sarah couldn't maneuver well in her high heels. We rounded a corner and I was knocked to the ground. Sarah fell next to me, crying softly.

A large man with a bulbous gut stood before us. Drool and blood surrounded his mouth, and he stared at us with his mouth hung open, eyes blank, almost like a complete imbecile. We both knew this man was one of them; we could see it in the eyes. Sarah kicked out with one leg, catching the man in the knee. He fell to one knee, and before he could stand again I quickly pushed myself up, planted a leg on his thick chest and kicked him to the ground.

"Good job," I said as I picked Sarah off the ground. When she was off the ground, I held her in my arms again. Then I saw hope. It was in the shape of a police cruiser. Its lights weren't flashing, but I could not mistake it. I laughed with joy. "Sarah, there's a police officer. We're saved!"

We ran towards the cruiser, forgetting completely of the pain in our legs and the tightness of our chests. They could protect us. They could take us somewhere safe. We could forget this nightmare.

As we approached the vehicle, closer and closer, I realized that dream was over.

The police officer was dead, slumped against the rear tire, blood spilling onto his chest from the cleft in his neck. A shotgun rested in his lap, and I didn't hesitate to take it. After all, he wouldn't need it any time soon.

"Do you know how to use that?" Sarah asked behind me.

"Nope," I answered truthfully. "I've never used one of these before, but I've seen them used in movies before. Also, I've written a few stories where the characters use guns like these, so I did some research. I should be able to figure it out."

I grabbed the gun in one hand and began searching the officer with the other. I found a pistol and grabbed that as well. "Here," I said, holding the pistol out to Sarah. "Take this. I want you to be safe." She voiced no objections, and I began searching the body for ammunition. I found a couple clips for the handgun and a box of shotgun shells near his body. I scooped them up and dumped them into my pant pockets.

Then, I heard a soft moan, a creaking noise from deep within the throat. I looked up and saw the officer staring directly into my eyes with his own empty pair. Our faces were so close I could smell his fetid breath.

"Whoa!" I pushed myself away from him, but he grabbed my ankle. I could feel his skin, cold and clammy, the touch of death. I didn't know what to do, so I acted without thought. I grabbed the shotgun with both hands and brought down the butt, smashing the officer in the face. It didn't deter him much, so I brought it down again, and again. By the time his hand relinquished its hold on me, his face was a bloody pulp.

I tried calming myself, but my heart seemed like it was beating so fast it would explode right in my chest.

"Give me the keys," Sarah said. "You're in no shape to drive."

I didn't object, only grabbed the keys from the pockets of the officer's (hopefully) still body and handed them to her. She climbed in the driver's seat, and I moved to the passenger's side. The crowd of undead had gained a lot of ground in the time I had grabbed the guns and keys. A couple had even managed to reach the car. A younger man in a long-sleeved shirt blocked my access to the car. I raised the shotgun to my shoulder. Preparing for the recoil, I fired. The gun slammed hard against my shoulder, and the recoil caused the shot to sail far too high. Gritting my teeth, I pumped another round into the gun, and fired again, making sure to keep the gun as level as possible. It worked. The shot tore into the man's chest, leveling him.

Quickly, before any others could gain any ground, I opened the door and slid in. "Go, go, go!" The tires squealed, and the cruiser took off. Sarah weaved the car side to side, doing her best to avoid hitting any of the people, and she did a great job of it too. She hit a few of the undead, but they rolled under, causing the car to jolt. I resisted the urge to look back and see what remained of them.

Now with a chance to focus, a chance to not worry about being torn apart, I reached into my pants pockets and pulled out my cell phone. I quickly dialed the phone number to Sarah and mine's apartment.

Please, God, let everything be alright, I begged. I don't know what I would do without Madison. She's my world, my everything. I thought back on the six months that I had spent with her. Every moment more joyful than the last. She had to be alright. Everything had to be fine.

I kept telling that to myself as the phone rang. One ring, two rings, three rings, four rings. Just as I was about to give up all hope, I heard someone on the other end pick up, but no one said anything.

"Hello?" I said excitedly. "Lori? Lori is that you?"

"Mr. Whitman?"

"Yes! Oh, thank God, Lori!" I said with relief. Then I realized I was getting ahead of myself. Just because she said something didn't mean everything was alright. "Listen; are you and the baby okay? Are there people in the apartment with you?"

Lori took a second to answer. "Yes…we're alright— "

I sighed with relief, smiling with joy.

"— but there's some people out in the hall, and they're trying to get in." I felt my smile turn into a countenance of terror. Lori sobbed on the other end before continuing. "I heard screams, Mr. Whitman! People in the other apartments. I think…I think they killed them!!" She broke down, and I heard her painful sobs. Just listening to them on the phone split my heart.

"We're coming home," I said. "Until then make sure the door is barricaded. Then take Madison and hide. Keep the phone with you; I'll call you when we get there. Can you do that for me, Lori?"

No answer.

"Can you do that Lori?!" I repeated, louder.

"Yes… Yes, I can do that."

"Alright, good girl. We'll be there soon." I hung up the phone, and at that moment I felt something strange. It felt like hanging up the phone had sealed the fate of that young girl. Almost like I had finished talking to her for the last time.

I shook myself of that strange feeling.

"Is everything okay?" Sarah asked.

I looked at her face, twisted with concern and worry, and I realized her I couldn't tell her everything. The worry itself might kill her, so I lied a little. I said nothing about the screams Lori had heard.

"They're completely fine," I said. "I told Lori to barricade the door and hide, just in case, and that we are on the way back."

"Sam, I'm worried."

"Don't be," I said, rubbing her arm gently. "Everything's going to be okay. We'll get there soon, and then we can leave with Madison. Get the hell out of Dodge."

She looked over at me for a second, and I could see that I had reassured her. I smiled and she smiled back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something. "Sarah!! Look out!!"

What if I hadn't distracted her? What if we'd have reacted quicker? What would have happened then? Would things have changed? Those were the questions I kept asking myself, answers I would never know. Still, I can't help but wonder if things would be different if we never hit that other car.

It came from the intersection, driving quickly, faster than us. Neither Sarah nor I saw it until it was too late. She slammed on the brakes, but it was far too late. We slammed into its driver's side. My body rocked forward but was stopped by the airbag. I heard the crunch of metal. Then everything was quiet for a moment. I moaned, and my moan was answered by more.

"Son of a bitch!" I hissed, trying to free myself of the seatbelt. I looked over to Sarah. Her face was buried in her own airbag, but she wasn't moving. "Aww, shit!" I cursed, already feeling the tears sting my eyes. "Sarah?! Sarah?! Are you alright?!" I managed to free myself. I kicked the door open, stepping out with the shotgun in my hands.

The world was still spinning slightly, but I could still see well. I couldn't tell where exactly we were, but at that moment, it didn't matter to me at all. Most of my attention was on the crowd of people drawing close.

"Shit!" I cursed again, working my way over to Sarah. The door had been crunched in the crash, making it difficult to open. I pulled and pulled on the handle, but nothing came of it. I was too weak. I looked over my shoulder and saw the crowd moving forward. I raised the shotgun again, using it as a club. I smashed the window once— nothing— twice— the glass spider webbed— three times— the window looked ready to give— and four times— it finally shattered.

"Sarah?" I said, reaching through and shaking her shoulders. Tears began to run down my face. "Sarah? Please get up!"

I looked over my shoulder. Now, one of the zombies, a woman wearing a blue sweater and her hair in a ponytail led the assault. I fired, the bullet from the shotgun tearing into her chest and knocking her to the ground. I turned back to Sarah.

"Please, Sarah! Please get up!" I slapped her across the face a couple times, and then I heard the most beautiful sound I've ever heard a soft whimper escaped her throat. "Oh thank, God! Thank, God!!" I reached through the car window, hugging and kissing her head. "I thought I lost you!"

"What happened?" she asked softly.

"We hit another car," I said. "Can you move? We have to get out of here." I looked over my shoulder and saw the crowd was getting far too close. Any closer and the two of us would have nowhere left to go. Then, in the crowd, I saw something horrifying. The woman with the ponytail and the blue sweater was back up. There was a large cavity in her chest, right where I shot her, but she still kept moving like she didn't feel a thing.

My mind raced. How could this be? I shot her. She should be dead, yet there she was.

I pumped another round into my gun and fired into the crowd. The shot lodged itself in man's large gut. He fell backwards, knocking more down. To my horror, he slid back onto his feet, ready to go another round. I looked back and saw Sarah gingerly climbing out of the window. I had to protect her; I couldn't let anything happen to her because of me.

I raised the gun to my shoulder once again, pumping it. I had to find a way to kill these things, and to do so, I'd have to do some experimenting. I'd have to try to kill it in a different way. I thought of the one sure fire way to kill something, and raised the gun slightly, pointing it at the rotting face of the closest zombie. I felt the gun kick, as my finger twitched on the trigger. There was an explosion of blood and bone, and the body fell to the ground, not moving an inch.

Smiling triumphantly, I fired again, taking off the head of another. I pumped and pulled the trigger again, but there was no roar, no kick, just an empty _click_.

"Damn!"

I reached in my pocket and pulled out some shells. I looked over the gun quickly, trying to find out how to load it. I couldn't figure it out. Growing frantic, I looked up at the crowd moving closer and back to the gun in my hands. The leader of the group, an overweight woman with fiery red hair, reached out towards me, and I realized I was screwed. I raised the shotgun up, ready to smash her with the butt of the gun just to defend myself. Before I could swing the gun down, a shot rang out. I felt blood spill across my face as the large woman fell to her knees, a hole visible in her head.

I looked right and saw Sarah standing next to the car, pistol in hand.

"Great shot," I said. Moving towards her, I gave her a kiss. "I'm so glad you're alright. Come on, let's go."

"What about the other driver?" she asked as I dragged her as far away from the gathering horde of the undead as I could.

My eyes darted to the other car. Through the shattered glass and crunched metal, I saw a younger man with short black hair and a goatee. His neck was twisted awkwardly, and his head hung loosely on his shoulders. I grimaced at the sight.

"We don't have to worry about him," I said softly. "It's too late for that."

"Oh, God."

We moved on, desperate to make it home.

I have no idea how long it took us to move through the streets and arrive at our apartment building. Time seemed to blur as I passed through streets, running from the dead and looking at the horror and destruction around me. The whole time we were running I could think only of my six-month old baby, Madison. I knew Sarah was thinking the same, for the closer we got, the faster she moved. When we reached our street, both of us were sprinting, feet stomping on concrete.

We stood, looking up at our tall apartment building.

"Do you think— " Sarah started.

"We'll have to see," I said. I took her hand in mine and climbed up the steps and into the building.

We walked through the halls quickly, but quietly. I listened for any sign of life, but I didn't hear any. We walked towards the stairs, and on our way we passed a room with the door wide open. I wish I would have not looked in there, but my eyes were drawn to the open door.

Inside, I saw an old man clutched in the arms of a younger man with blond hair. Blood flowed from the older man's neck, and the younger man eagerly ripped flesh from his counterpart's neck. I don't know how I knew it, but I could tell the man with blond hair was the son of the older man. And the worst fact of it all, the son didn't look like the undead Sarah and I had encountered. In fact, he looked normal, no physical injuries at all.

What would make someone do something like that? What would make someone eat their own father? What would turn a son into a murdering, flesh-eater?

I shut the door. The door creaked right before it shut, and the son turned towards me. In the space between the door and the frame, I saw his eyes, white as ash. A shiver crawled up my spine, and I was thankful to have that door shut.

"What was it?" Sarah asked.

"Nothing…nothing at all."

I returned to her side and we climbed the stairs. Realizing how close we were, I took them two at a time. So close. In a moment, I could feel my baby girl in my arms.

I reached the fourth floor (our floor) and flung open the door. I stopped immediately. In this hall there were five undead. At the sound of the door opening, they all turned their rotting countenances towards me. I now took the time to look over my shotgun again. I noticed a feed on the side and immediately began to feed six shells in. I heard Sarah's feet stomping on the stairs as she ascended behind me, but the sound seemed so distant; I was too focused on the now.

With the last shell in, I pumped the gun. Raising it to my shoulder, I fired. A head exploded, and I pumped again. I kept firing and pumping, firing and pumping, receiving some sort of sick satisfaction from the skulls that exploded and the blood that painted the walls.

The last one fell right as Sarah reached me. She gasped slightly at the carnage in the hall. Then we rushed towards our apartment, leaping over the bodies strewn about the hall from my battle. As I moved over the last of the bodies, turning the corner, I saw the most horrifying sight; the apartment door was wide open.

"Madison! No!"

I ran faster than I've ever ran before, Sarah right behind me.

My mind raced with possibilities, each more horrifying than the last. I begged to God again. Please, don't take my baby away. Please let her be alright. I'd give anything, anything just to hold her again.

When I came into the apartment, things didn't look good. Furniture was strewn about, blood was spilt on the ground, and glass had been shattered.

"Lori!" I called out, already feeling tears welling up inside me. "Can you hear me? Are you there? Lori!"

Sarah immediately took off for Madison's room. She was out of sight for only a moment before I heard a piercing shriek.

"Oh God."

I rushed to her aid, already knowing what I would find. Still, even with the most gifted imagination, it's difficult to picture something as awful and horrifying as the truth. As soon as I came into the room, my legs lost all their strength, sending me to my knees. My mouth moved to form words, but all that came out were unintelligible jabber. I felt like I had been stricken dumb.

Sarah was weeping. Actually, weeping wasn't quite the word for it. She was in hysterics. Tears rolled down her face like a gushing waterfall. Clutched in her arms was a small package wrapped in white linen, or what used to be white linen. Sarah was on her knees, rocking back and forth and speaking something so garbled it sounded like an alien language.

"Is that her?" I asked, my voice sounding like it was coming from the other side of the world.

No answer but another painful howl, and that was all the answer I needed. My eyes burned from the tears, and I ran my hands through my hair. I fell on all floors, screaming in pain.

How could this have happened? My mind began to run through what life would have been like with Madison. I saw her walking for the first time with Sarah and me cheering her on. I saw me telling her a bed-time story. I saw her riding away on the yellow school bus on her first day of school. I saw her in her graduation gown. The pain was immense, worse than the time I broke my leg in a car accident. This was the kind of pain that knew no bounds; the kind that ripped your heart in half.

My forehead touched the floor, and I lay there on the ground crying, tasting my bitter tears.

"Ahhhh…"

I instantly recognized that moan. I looked up, and through my blurry eyes I saw the body of Lori rise above my wife. Her throat had been ripped out, and her stomach had been torn open, letting her guts hang loose and free. She moved for my wife, but Sarah didn't notice. She was still rocking and muttering, muttering and rocking.

I stood, wiping the tears from my eyes with my sleeve. I didn't know how Lori had turned, but I didn't care. I wouldn't let the rest of my family be killed by these creatures. I picked up my shotgun and aimed high, making sure I wouldn't hit my wife at all. I felt all the rage inside me build up. The tears stopped flowing, but the hate didn't. I didn't see the creature before me as Lori the baby-sitter anymore. I only saw the undead that had killed so many, that had killed my daughter. I screamed in hatred as I fired my gun. The shot caught her right at the top of the skull, leaving the bottom half of her head, but taking off the top.

Blood and brain matter fell onto Sarah, but she didn't notice.

xXxXx

"That was when I knew she was gone," Sam said, finishing his horrible tale. "Ever since then she hasn't said a word. In fact, she's barely down anything at all. It's like she lost her soul with her daughter. Nothing left than a hollow shell." He sighed. "Sometimes I imagine she's one of them outside. Just hasn't gotten to the part where she eats people."

Drew and Christie said nothing. There was nothing that could be said.

Finally, Drew moved around the table and sat next to Sam, placing a comforting hand on Sam's shoulders. "Nothing like that ever should have happened," he said. "That's the Goddamn truth."

Sam sniffled, wiping his eyes. "I know. I just can't stop beating myself up over it. What if we had gotten there faster? What if we had never left the house? I could still be holding her in my arms. Sarah wouldn't be a…a zombie."

"Listen," Christie said. "You had no idea something like this would happen. No one ever would have guessed that the dead would walk again. It's the stuff of science-fiction. As for getting there faster, you did your best to get there. You cared, and you risked your life to reach her. There was nothing more you could do." She placed her hand on Sam's.

"It's weird," Sam finally said. "I've never even met you guys before, but I already feel like I've known you all my life, like we were best friends. Isn't funny how a catastrophe like this can bring people together?"

Drew opened his mouth to say something but was stopped by a loud gunshot that echoed throughout the school.

Drew stood up, thinking a single thought. "Do you think they found a way in?"

All three of them exchanged a look before taking off towards the main hallway. The other survivors looked around in fear, unwilling to believe their sanctuary had been shattered.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry to dissapoint those expecting some direct resolution to the last chapter, but I promise that will come next chapter. Cross my heart and all that shebang. Right now, I wanted to try something a little different. It's more of like an intermission chapter, but I had fun doing it. I'm hoping for some critique if possible on my writing this time around. I haven't written much in first person, but it is a skill I want to improve on. Therefore, I'd appreciate any help I could get. Anyways, thanks again for reading and I'll see you soon I guess. _

_Oh, one last thing. I'll give a shout-out to TitansFan18 for being giving the 100th review. Thats a big landmark, and I honestly never thought I'd reach it. As promised, I'll send you a copy of the next chapter before it goes up, but I'm going to need you to give me your email address. If you just email the one address in my profile and tell me what format you want it in, I'll be glad to send it._


	22. Shattered Sanctuary

****

Chapter Twenty-Two— Shattered Sanctuary

Neil sat in the dim light of the closet, tired and still. As of the moment, he felt fine. Not a symptom of the disease had begun to show. _But do you even know the symptoms of the disease? _Neil's mind asked, and that was the thing: he didn't. No one had been able to study this. No one knew what happened to you before you turned. The only people who knew that for sure were the creators of the virus themselves, Umbrella.

Jill had informed him what was going on, and it was all summed up in Neil's mind by a simple sentence: Umbrella was at fault for this whole mess. They had made the virus (the T-Virus as Jill called it), they had created the zombies, they had created the other various monsters running around, and they were the ones responsible for the deaths of all these people. Just then, Neil became even more enraged that he had been infected. The more he thought about everything that happened, the more he wanted to take revenge on the damn corporation responsible for everything. Now, he would never get a chance at revenge.

Neil's attention was drawn to the light under the door. He saw the shadow of a figure on the other side, and when he heard the jingle of keys and the sound of the lock being unlatched, he knew who was on the other side. They hadn't left him a clock, but he knew that when Josh opened the door, allowing light to filter in, that not a lot of time had passed. He was surprised at the drummer's quick return, but he was even more surprised to see Josh pointing his gun at him.

Josh shut the door behind him, walking forward, but still keeping the gun perfectly trained on Neil's face. First, Neil's eyes were drawn to the gun, but then when he noticed the gun shaking in Josh's hands, his eyes were drawn up. Tears rolled down the drummer's face, and Neil saw the confusion in his face.

They stared into each other's eyes. Neil saw the chaos swirling in Josh's eyes, and he wondered what Josh saw in his. Was it fear? Or maybe compliance? Neil didn't turn away. He didn't know why, but he was caught staring over the dark barrel of that gun and at Josh's teary face.

"Go ahead and do it," Neil whispered. "I don't even care anymore. I don't even care." He let his head hang, closing his eyes, ready for death.

Josh readjusted his grip on the pistol and edged forward slightly. Neil felt the cool touch of steel on his temple. He gulped, breathing deeply, feeling his chest rise. He held his breath, ready to let it all go in one beautiful exhale. He waited, but nothing happened.

"Fuck it!" Josh finally said, jerking the gun to the side and putting the safety back on. He wiped his eyes with the crook of his arm while tucking the gun back into his belt simultaneously. "I got myself all worked up, ready to just come down here and shoot you, but I just can't when I look right at you. Not when you're alive and well, just tied to a chair, completely defenseless." Then, he muttered something under his breath. To Neil it sounded like, "just like that damn zombie in the car," but he couldn't tell exactly.

"You should of done it anyway," Neil said, dropping his head in despair. "Just put me out of my misery."

"I had trouble putting down my dog in high school. What makes you think I'd be able to handle shooting another human being?" Josh said with a feeble smile. "Why are you so adamant about dying anyway?"

"Look at me, I'm tied to a chair, waiting to turn into a zombie. I don't see much to look forward to."

Josh said nothing. He opened the door slightly, staring out the crack and into the hall. He stood like that for a moment. "I'll be back," he finally said before leaving Neil without giving him a chance to say a word.

The door slammed shut, and Neil heard the turning of the lock once again. He leaned back, sighing. He was growing very tired of this, and the chair wasn't comfortable in the least bit. He wondered how much longer he'd have to stay sitting, but he dismissed the thought quickly. Any thought of time always brought him back to his own biological clock. He knew soon that clock would wind down, and his time would come. Until that happened though, Neil would be content never seeing another Goddamn clock.

When Josh returned he had a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.

"This may be able to hold off the virus," Josh said. "Also thought you might be thirsty."

"Why are you doing all of this," Neil asked, curiosity peaked. "Why go through all of this when you could just put a bullet in me?"

"I like to help," Josh said indifferently as he dumped a fair amount of pills into his hand. "Open up." Neil complied. Josh carefully set the pills on his tongue and brought the glass of water up to his mouth. Neil tipped his head back, letting the water trickle down his throat. In no time flat, he had emptied the glass.

Neil thanked him kindly.

Josh grabbed a dusty chair resting against the wall, brushed it off quickly, and sat down, looking right at Neil. "So, I've got no where else to be. Want to talk?"

"About what?" Neil asked, perplexed.

"I don't know. Music? Sports? Movies?"  
"I don't know what to talk about," Neil said as he shook his head. "Why don't you take a pick?"

"Alright, I've got a question. What's it like being a father?"

"What are you talking about?" Neil asked.

"How do you like being a father?" Josh repeated. "I have to admit, I've always liked kids. I know it's not exactly what you'd expect from a metal guy like myself, but it's true."

"Yeah, I like kids too," Neil said, "but I'm no father."

Josh looked bemused. "What are you talking about? Isn't Annie your daughter?"

"Nope," Neil said, shaking his head.

"Wow, I can't believe that. If anyone had asked, I would have put my hand on the Bible and swore to God Himself that you were her dad. So then what are you? Are you her uncle?"

Neil shook his head again. "We're not related at all. In fact, before any of this even happened I had never seen her before in my life."

"So you found her out there?"

"Yeah, found her out there. It was a miracle she was even alive."

"Where'd you find her?"

Neil sighed. "You got time for a story?"

Josh nodded, ushering Neil to go on with his hands.

"Alright," Neil said, taking a deep breath. "Here goes. I met Jill shortly when the outbreak began. She came to my store, hoping to find some ammo. I was just grabbing as much ammo and guns as I could myself when she came, so we left that place together. We were looking for other survivors and more importantly a place to stay safe. We passed by an orphanage, and naturally, both Jill and I felt we had to go in there in case there were some children. As it turns out, there were."

Neil sighed. He looked up at Josh, and the drummer saw the water swelling in his eyes. "It was horrible. Never in my life would I want to see children like that. Their tiny, frail bodies lay slumped around, some completely torn apart, but those weren't the worst. As awful as those bodies were, the ones moving around were much worse."

Josh leaned back, crossing his arms gravely. He knew exactly what Neil was getting at, and just the thought of it was terrible. Witnessing it, that was a much higher level of horror.

"Out of all the creatures I've faced," Neil said, small tears starting to roll down his cheeks. "I felt my skin crawl the most with these children. Jill felt it too, for it was the first time that whole night that she didn't react instantly. I wouldn't have done anything, if it was possible, but they crowded the hall, and I kept holding onto the hope there was someone to save. Like I said, I wish there had been another way, but me and Jill carved our way through with shotguns. They never stood a chance. We didn't have to aim for the heads, just fired and they flew out of the way."

"That's horrible," Josh said, shaking his head. "I hadn't seen any children zombies myself, and I guess there was a part of my mind, an ignorant part, that said only adults could be affected by this thing."

"To be honest, I felt the same. That's what made that time so damn difficult for me. It was almost like my last strand of sanity, something I wanted to hold on as long as I could, and as soon as I saw those children turned into flesh-eating creatures. Too be honest, I'm surprised I haven't lost my mind yet."

"Annie was in that orphanage I take it?" Josh asked.

"Yep," Neil said, the tears starting to dry in his eyes. "We cleared the first floor, and we moved upstairs. There weren't as many of them up there. I think they really had trouble with the stairs because we did find some adults up there, but only a few children. I think its because they were so small. Anyways, we were about to give up on hope, when we passed by a room and heard soft whimpering.

"When I entered the room, it was just like a small bedroom. There were two bunk beds, one on each side of the room. Everything else was torn apart. The sheets on one of the beds were stained with blood. To be honest, things didn't look good at all. Then I heard the whimpering again, coming from under one of the beds. I called out, saying we were here to help, but no one came out. So, I looked under the bed, and there she was, curled up in a little ball, crying and muttering. When I reached in, she punched and kicked at me, but I pulled her out and just hugged her. That seemed to make her feel better."

"No wonder she feels such a connection to you," Josh said with understanding. "You saved her. Not to mention, you're probably the only father figure she has."

"I'm all she has now," Neil said softly. "And she's all I have now. I never had a wife, my only girlfriend for almost two years broke up with me a few months back, and I have no family left. That's what's making this…so difficult."

Josh said nothing. The two sat in the dim light, listening to the silence. Then, the sound of a gun tore through halls, echoing loudly.

"What the?"

Josh stood up quickly, already drawing his gun. "Could there be more?" He moved over to the door, opened it and stepped out into the hall. "I don't see anything out here. Just rest easy and man the fort here." Josh turned towards Neil, flashing a thin smile.

"Not like I have much of a choice," Neil said.

With that, the door shut, leaving Neil in the dim light once again.

xXxXx

"What is going on here?" a middle-aged man with graying hair spoke up.

Drew couldn't help but wonder as well. Christie, Sam, and him had turned a corner in a hall, heading towards the sound of the disturbance— a single gunshot. A small crowd had gathered around the back entrance, the loading docks. Immediately, Drew's mind turned to the worst.

_Could they really be here? _Drew thought. _And if they are, why are we all coming towards them? We should be going the other way, blocking hallways off, doing anything to slow them down._

He supposed it was part of human instinct— the same instinct that drew moths to the flame. Drew didn't understand how that impulse came about, but apparently it was strong enough to draw himself as well.

The crowd was gathered outside a doorway, fighting for a chance to see in. Drew heard murmurs from the crowd.

"Oh my God!"

"Look at all that blood!"

"Shouldn't someone go get Lauren?"

Drew had about enough of this, and he decided he needed to see what was going on. As he pushed his way to the front, a wave of nostalgia washed over him. He thought of the numerous concerts he had been to and how he hated it when other people pushed their own ways to the front. However, this was different. He wasn't seeing Iron Maiden or In Flames; he was trying to figure out what exactly had happened.

Drew pushed his way through and found himself standing at the doorway. Looking through it, he saw the bare room right outside the loading dock. Vince was still at his post, but he was considerably worse for wear. He lay on the concrete floor, a pool of blood slowly stretching out around him. His head rested on the lap of a larger man with short red hair.

"Jesus Christ…" Drew muttered, moving towards them "Sam! Sam, go get Lauren! Quickly!" He looked back and saw a figure moving back through the crowd, heading back the way Drew had came from. He could only hope Sam would be quick, but he also knew Vince didn't have much time left.

Drew dropped to his knees next to Vince, sitting across from the red haired man. The red haired man had a sweater pressed on Vince's neck, the part where most of the blood spilt from. Drew looked down at Vince's face, seeing the pain and horror in the older man's wide eyes. He muttered something, but the bassist couldn't understand it. Whenever Vince opened his mouth, small amounts of blood seeped from it, spilling down onto the sweater.

"Oh my God!" Christie said, falling down next to Drew. "What happened here?"

Drew looked up at the red haired man's face. The man shook his head, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I'm not even sure! One moment me and him were sitting here, just talking when this damned thing burst from the closet."

Drew followed his gaze and saw a zombie laying in a pool of blood. If not for the blood splatter on the wall, he would have thought the zombie had been headless from the start. The bassist's brown eyes squinted, focusing on the cadaver. There was something different about it. It was all red, almost like it was covered in blood, but the crimson color came just from the zombie's skin. Drew also noticed the nails on both hands had extended, looking more like claws then like nails.

"Where would that come from?" Christie asked. "How did it get in here? You're guarding the only entrance. All the others have been blocked off."

"I don't know," the red-haired man muttered. "I just don't. Like I said, one moment everything was fine. The next, this thing is tearing into Vince's neck. I reacted as quickly as I could, but it didn't matter. I shot the damn thing with my rifle, point blank. Guess I wasn't really thinking. I just wanted it to let go of him."

"Well, I'd say you accomplished that," Drew said.

Next to him, Christie shot him a cold look as if to say, "You're not helping."

Drew cast his eyes to Vince, stared straight into his eyes, but Vince didn't seem to notice. It was like he was looking past Drew, towards a powerful, unseen light. His eyes were wide with terror and pain. The bassist took the older man's hand in his. Vince's fingers tightened instinctively around his hand much like an infant reacts to their parent's fingers placed in their tiny palms.

"Stay with me, Vince!" Drew said. "Just stay here until Lauren comes back. Then she'll…she'll fix you up. Good as new, right? Just stay here until she comes back, okay?"

Vince sputtered, trembling fiercely. Drew placed his other hand on the older man's chest in an attempt to hold him stole. He felt the damp crimson liquid spilt from the wound. Vince's shakes grew more violent until suddenly he stopped completely. His fingers lost their strength in Drew's hands, uncoiling slowly.

"Damnit! No!"

Drew sighed deeply. He never had a chance to get to know this man, and he never would. He rose slowly to his feet, knowing exactly what he had to do. His fingers wrapped slowly around the gun in his waistband. Regretfully, he raised the gun to Vince's still wide open, fearful eyes and pulled back on the hammer. "You're going to want to step back, sir."

The red-haired man looked up at Drew, tears swelling in his eyes. "What? What are you going to do?"

"I'm sorry, but we have to do this. If we don't— "

"But he's my father!" the man cut in, rising to his feet. Drew watched the man rise to his full height. He had a good four inches and forty pounds on the bassist. Drew saw how quickly the man's look changed from one of shock to one of anger, making him look much more domineering.

"I know it has to be hard on you…sorry, what's you name?"

"Don," the man said hotly.

"I'm Drew. Now listen, Don. I know he's your father, but he's gone. However, if you don't let me do this he'll be back. Except, it won't really be him. Just a doll that looks like him. Now, please step aside so I can do this."

Drew moved forward, fully expecting Don to listen to reason and move for him. The larger man did no such thing.

"Stay away from him!" he roared, grabbing Drew by the collar and throwing him to the side.

Drew hit the ground roughly, but bounded back up quickly. As he rose to his feet he noticed the shotgun pointed at him. Drew quickly tucked the gun back into his waistband and raised his hands up into the air, showing an air of surrender. Christie took a step forward to help, but Drew shot her a look, telling her to remain where she was.

"Hold on there for a second," Drew said. "Let's not do anything irrational."

"Irrational? Like shooting my father?!"

Drew felt like screaming at the guy until he would listen, but he managed to stay calm. He said, "I'm just trying to tell you that if we don't do something right now, your father is going to turn into one of them. At that point, it won't matter if you're his son or not; he'll kill you without a second thought."

"Don't say that!" Don yelled, jabbing the shotgun towards him.

"Slow down there, Don," a man in the crowd said, stepping forward to help.

Don turned on him. "Everyone stay there! This is between me and him!"

"You know I'm right," Drew continued," and I don't think you want to shoot me either." Drew's heart raced at a million miles a second as he stepped forward slowly. However, on the outside he was cool and focused. He was two people at once. One calm and tranquil like a small stream, the other, a swirling torrent of fear and chaos. Luckily for him, no one saw the later.

Don changed countenance once again. His eyes went wide with surprise, and he backed up slowly, keeping a set distance between him and Drew. "Stay back! I'll shoot you if you lay even a finger on my father!" Drew smiled confidently on the inside. The red-haired man looked so confused, so completely unaware of what to do; he even lowered his gun. He was confident that if he played this calm and slow he could talk sense into him.

Then, sense was gone. Drew stopped still, eyes widening. He reached for his gun again. Don raised the shotgun to his shoulder, hoping to be quicker than Drew on the draw. However, Drew wasn't the threat.

"Behind you!"

Don paid no attention, thinking it was only a trick. His mistake. Don may have heard someone scream just as his newly arisen father opened his mouth wide, clamping down on Don's neck. Drew winced as blood sprayed. He raised the handgun hoping to help in some way, but there was no shot to take. Don thrashed violently side to side, trying to throw his undead father off him.

"Stand still damnnit!" Drew yelled. "I can't take a shot!"

Don wouldn't listen. Drew kept his gun trained on the struggling duo, hoping he would see some sort of opening. He didn't see Christie move towards the two until she was standing behind Vince, prying him off of Don.

She grabbed the zombie by the shoulders and pulled. Vince came off, taking a thick, red chunk of flesh with him. Don fell forward; Vince and Christie fell back. The zombiefied Vince turned on Christie who sat defenseless on the floor. With blood spilling down from his open maw, he turned, reaching out towards her.

_BAM!!_

Vince's arms fell limp to his side, and he crashed to the floor. Drew looked grimly at the body, tucking the handgun he had used to kill the zombie back in his waistband. "You alright?" He reached down to help her.

Christie nodded, happily taking his hand.

"Thanks for the help," Drew continued. "I wouldn't have had a shot if you hadn't stepped in."

"I had to do something. I couldn't just stand there."

Drew's eyes shot to the side, towards the crowd of gathers. _Can't say that about you, could I? _he thought cynically. They just stood there during the whole deal, treating it like it was a concert or event of some sort. _They should have bought some tickets._

Drew turned back to Don, who lay on the ground. One of his hands was pressed against the wound, but it didn't accomplish anything in stopping the blood flow. Already, Drew could see the strength leaving the man's eyes. Drew truly felt sorry for him. If only the man would have listened, would have let Drew put a bullet in Vince's head, then things wouldn't have turned out like they had. He could have lived. Drew moved over to the injured man, hoping to add some sort of comfort for him before he passed.  
"I…should…should have listened…to you," Don muttered slowly.

Drew said nothing, only took Don's other hand and squeezed it tight.

"What happened?!" a new voice called out.

Drew turned to see a short, squat woman with black hair. Her attire pointed her out to be a nurse quickly, and Drew quickly figured this was Lauren, the resident healer.

"He was bit," Drew said, moving aside so she could do her job.

"Damn, there's a lot of blood," Lauren said, pulling out a large cloth and pressing it to Don's neck. She turned to Drew and whispered quietly into his ear. "I'm going to be honest with you, his carotid artery has been severed. It's a wonder he's lasted as long as he has. The best we can do is make him comfortable as he dies."

"How long does he got?"

"Like I said, it's a wonder he's lasted as long as he has. I would give him another minute or two at the most."

Drew sighed, rubbing his temples. "Alright."

"This is it? Isn't it?" Don asked suddenly. "There's no fixin this." Drew said nothing, just looked him in the eyes. Tears began to roll down Don's face. "Listen…I know I messed up back…back there. But, I wanna…wanna make things right. So please…please just…just shoot me."

Drew nodded morosely. "Are you sure about this?"

Don grunted in pain. "Yeah, I'm sure about it. I don't…don't want to come back."

"Alright," Drew said, standing up and drawing his gun. "Close your eyes. I don't want the last thing you see to be me and my gun. Think of your father, before all of this." Drew felt a tear roll down his face, but he didn't wipe it away, just kept talking. Think of all the good times you had, think of all the happy moments in your life."

Slowly, a smile showed on Don's lips.

_BAM!!_

Drew wiped away the single tear, looked at Lauren. She nodded to him before rising to her feet. She sighed heavily. "I wish there was a cure for this damn disease," she said. "Someway to help these people fight it."

_There's only one way to help these people, _Drew thought, looking to the handgun in his right hand. _It doesn't bring them back, but it at least ends their suffering. I know for a fact I'd rather die than live as one of those things._ He ended his thoughts with a dire thought. _I'll take care of myself before I let myself turn into one of them._

xXxXx

Thomas walked through the halls, a picture reeking of depression. He walked with a slouched posture, hands shoved deep into his jean pockets. The tears had long since dried up, and the picture had been placed back into his pocket. Still, he felt sorrow tugging at his heart.

He gently caressed the Polaroid with his fingertips while it lay in his pocket. His feet shuffled forward almost mechanically, yet his mind wondered completely. All he could think of was her. Her smile, her hair, her laughter, and (worst of all) her screams.

__

Why did I leave her? he thought. _Why didn't I do more to protect her? There had to be something different I could have done, something that could have saved her._

His mind replayed the horrible events once again. He saw her, saw her get pulled into the crowd, saw them reach for her, saw them—

"Hey, Thomas!"

The deep voice snapped him out of his trance, freeing his mind from the horrible images he had conjured.

He looked right, wiping his face, but forgetting there were no more tears. He looked to his right and saw a skinny bald man. The man's voice was remarkably deep for a man his size. "Huh? What is it Seth?"

"Are my eyes yellow?"

"What?"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me if they're yellow?" Seth said again. "Cause I've got so much piss in me it has to be up to my eyes by now. Look, can you take over this post for just a second while I take care of this?"

Thomas looked around, not fully back into the real world yet. His mind kept picturing her, and only her.

"Thomas! Snap out of it, man!" Seth yelled. He walked up to Thomas and shoved a gun into his hands. "Take this, and if you get bored or decide any of those fuckers are getting too close, pop 'em in the head. Just make sure they don't break down those gates. Think you can handle that for three minutes while I piss?"

Thomas nodded. "Yeah, you go. I can stay here."

"Good." Seth walked away, muttering to himself under his breath. "Guy needs to get his head out of the clouds for a fucking minute…"

Thomas watched him go, then looked around. He was at the front of the high school. The same school he had graduated from nearly two years ago. He looked briefly at the lockers, remembering how simple life had been back then. His mind— the dangerous weapon it really was— brought back memories of her. He saw himself leaning with his back against the locker. Her, standing in front of him, hands on his waist, talking, smiling. As quickly as the phantoms had come, they faded, leaving Thomas empty and alone once again.

Surprisingly, Thomas didn't turn sad, instead, he grew angry. He gritted his teeth, clenched his knuckles. He wanted to lash out at something, anything, but there was nothing. Then, he heard the moan.

He turned, curiously. He had heard plenty of moans from these creatures, so there was nothing truly surprising about them. However, this moan sounded different, familiar. _Could it be?_ he thought. _Is it possible?_

Thomas's jaw dropped. His knees quivered, ready to give, yet he forced himself to stand. It was her; it was Alyson. She was out there with them, stuck behind the metal grate. Her delicate fingers were wrapped with the mesh, and she shook it in an effort to get through. To reach her love.

In disbelief, Thomas reached for the Polaroid in his pocket. His fingers wrapped around the photo, but he barely felt it. His fingers felt numb. In fact, his whole body felt numb like he had been dumped in a giant tub of ice. With shaking hands, he brought the picture out of his pocket and brought it up to his eyes. He stared at it, absorbing all of it details.

It was the two of them, sitting on a blanket in the grass. His arm, wrapped around her shoulder, letting her head rest against his chest. Her blond hair was up in a ponytail, and she wore a blue tank top, showing off her body. Thomas remembered that day clearly.

It was during their senior year. It had been a great day so they had a picnic out in the woods. They found the perfect grassy spot and had eaten their lunch. After they took this picture, they had made love for the first time. It had been one of the greatest days of Thomas's life, and the rest that had followed had been just as great, as long as they were spent with her.

He lifted the picture up, holding it up to the Alyson's face behind the grate. As much as he didn't initially believe, it was impossible to mistake her for anyone else. Her blonde hair wasn't in a ponytail, but the face matched perfectly. Her face, round and warm. Though, Thomas didn't notice that her eyes had changed from emerald green to a hollow white, nor did he notice the life-threatening wound on her neck.

_How is she alive? _Thomas thought. _I saw her. Saw them, grab her, pull her down. I heard her scream, "Thomas! Thomas!!"_

Oh, how those screams had tormented him every waking minute since he had last seen her. Even in his sleep, he tossed and turned, hearing those screams until he woke up in a cold sweat. All of last night consisted of that. Even in slumber, he could not escape her.

But now, none of that mattered, because she was back. She was alright. Thomas could hold her in his arms again.

The numbness throughout his body had been replaced by warmth. As he walked forward, every thing felt so different. He no longer felt low and cold. Quite the opposite really. He felt warm and weightless. Almost like he was flying by the sun, basking in its warms rays. He didn't think at all of the legend of Icarus, the boy with wax wings who flew too close to the sun and fell to his death. If he had thought of that, he might have noticed the foreshadowing.

Thomas reached the first metal grate. There was a padlock on it, but it hadn't been latched. Someone had been careless, but it was fortunate for Thomas. He undid the lock. Grabbing the bottom of the mesh, he lifted the gate until he could readjust his grip and pushed it up all the way, opening it fully. Halfway there, halfway to his love.

"What the fuck do you think your doing?!" a voice called out from behind.

Thomas turned slowly, not surprised to see Seth standing there at all.

"Seriously, don't tell me you're actually going to go out there."

"No," Thomas responded casually. "I'm letting Alyson in here. I can't leave her out there with them."

Seth looked at him peculiarly. Thomas recognized that look. It was a look that said, "are you crazy?" He had seen that look before. It was the same look his parents had given him when he told them he was going to ask Alyson to marry him. Even though they were fresh out of high school. His parents didn't understand their love, and neither did Seth.

"Just stay there, Seth," Thomas said. "It will be over in a second."

"Fuck that!" Seth spat. "If you let even one of them in, it'll be the end of all of us! Seriously, man, step away from that gate. If you don't, I'm going to knock off your fuckin' head! " He took a menacing step forward, but Thomas stopped him in his tracks when he pulled out the gun Seth had left with him. It was some sort of handgun, but Thomas didn't know the type or model. All he knew was it would stop Seth.

"Back up, and I won't have to use this," Thomas said, cocking the hammer on the gun.

"Whoa, man," Seth said. "You've cracked. You're completely fuckin' nuts." Thomas said nothing, only backed up slowly towards the gate, making sure Seth didn't move forward. "You wouldn't actually shoot me. I know you."

"No you don't. If you did, you'd know to stay away."

Seth bit his lip, furrowed his brow, but he didn't move forward.

Thomas smiled inwardly, backing up until he was near the gate. Even with back to it, he could smell the stench of rotting flesh lingering in the air. He reached back, searching for the padlock. Seth still didn't move, just stood there, clenching his fists.

His fingers grasped the lock, and he tugged on it. Nothing happened. Whoever had missed locking the second gate made damn sure they locked the first.

"Shit!" Thomas cursed.

A victorious smile emerged on Seth's lips. "What's the matter, Thomas?" he asked sardonically. "Locked? Neil has the keys, so you're out of luck there. So why don't you just give me the gun and go lie down? Forget about all of this." He took a step forward but stopped once again as Thomas pointed the handgun at him.

"Step back."

Travis complied, though, noticeably not as frightened.

Working only on impulse, Thomas turned towards the lock, pointed the gun down at the padlock at an angle and fired. It had worked in movies, so he thought it would be his best shot. The sound was nearly deafening. Yet Thomas could still hear the metallic _snap! _that resounded as the bullet tore through it. The bullet ricocheted wildly, nearly imbedding itself in Thomas's shoulder.

Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas saw something move quickly. It was Seth. He had made a wild lunge for Thomas. He turned, firing the gun madly, but hitting a still padlock and a moving person were two completely different things. He didn't manage to hit Seth with a single shot, and before he could even think about taking more shot, Seth's shoulder connected with his chest.

The air left his chest, the gun left his hand, but the determination did not leave his heart. With a roar and strength he didn't know he possessed, he threw Seth off of him. Standing back on his feet quickly, he threw a hard punch at his adversary. One of Seth's teeth cut his knuckles, but he barely felt it. Seth, on the other hand, fell to the floor, clutching his bleeding mouth.

Thomas turned his attention away, back towards the gate. The fight had excited the crowd of undead. They hit the gate harder, trying even harder to get in, and Thomas was going to give them exactly what they wanted just so he could reach Alyson. He grabbed the bottom of the gate and began lifting it.

"I don't think so, jackass!"

Seth wrapped his arms around Thomas's head, putting him in a headlock. Thomas squirmed, but Seth definitely had the edge. He had to weaken his grip if he was ever going to escape. He flailed wildly, flinging elbows into Seth's ribs. He heard Seth give an audible "Oomph!" as the blow landed; he felt the hold on his head loosen.

Quickly, he slipped out. Seth bent over, clutching his ribs, and Thomas used this opportunity to his advantage. He grabbed Seth by the collar with one hand and pummeled his face with the other. After this savage attack, he used all of his strength to throw his adversary as far away from the gate as possible.

With adrenaline pumping in his veins, he turned. With extra strength surging through his blood, he grabbed the gate and threw it open, letting the undead flood in.

"NO!"Behind him, Seth scrambled to his feet, fleeing as zombies stormed the school. Thomas could hear him screaming. "THEY'RE IN! THEY'VE GOTTEN IN!" as he ran through the halls.

Thomas didn't care. He had his Alyson now.

The zombies around him reached for him, but his pushed his way through them, desperate to reach her. Finally, he reached her. He sighed with relief, joyful tears streaming down his face. "Alyson!" He embraced her, not caring that she smelled like garbage. Just being able to hold her delicate form was enough. "I'm so sorry I couldn't save you, but I'm so glad you're— "

The words died in his throat Alyson's teeth ripped into his neck. Pain as he had never felt before flashed through his body, hot blood spilled down his body from his wound. He pushed off of her, unbelieving.

"W-why?" he sputtered. "I…I loved you, and I th-thought you loved me."

There was no answer in her cold, dead eyes, only hunger. She grabbed hold of Thomas once more, and only then did he realize the horrible mistake he had committed.

He screamed.

xXxXx

__

A/N: Wow, four months go by and this story finally gets an update. Just want to thank everyone who hasn't forgotten about this story. Sorry about leaving everyone with another cliff-hanger, but I hope the next chapter can go out much sooner. But with college coming up in a couple of weeks who knows exactly how things will turn out. Once again, just want to thank everyone who has reviewed, your kind words help push through the writer's block.


	23. Left with Little Choice

**Chapter Twenty-Three— Left with Little Choice**

Josh hurried through the halls, keys jingling softly on his belt. He felt the gun Jill had gave him pressing against his hip, another reminder of his failure. Ever since he had stared into Neil's eyes, his mind kept tormenting him.

_Why couldn't I do it? _he asked. _It doesn't make any sense. The man is as good as dead, yet I refuse to admit it._ Josh had never felt more confused in his life. He understood that Neil was better off dead then left to turn into a zombie, yet he couldn't bring himself to do it. The way he thought of it, shooting Neil was like throwing away hope, hope that Neil would recover, hope that he would be okay, hope that everything would turn out alright.

_What hope do you have?_ a malevolent voice whispered into his ear. _Your brother, the closest person you've ever been too, is dead. Adam, a man who's been like family to you for five years now, is dead. Only two members of Last Man Standing left to go. How long do you think Drew's going to last? How long do you think you're goi— _

Josh used all his self-control to push that voice from his head. Still, it had said enough, enough to crawl under his skin and rattle his bones. It had a point. How long could any of them expect to last in this apocalyptic world filled to the brim with demons and the undead— a very morbid thought indeed.

Just then he heard a voice echoing through the halls. He couldn't quite discern what it was yelling. He turned a corner and the voice became louder; he was moving closer. His pace quickened; his hand fell to his gun. It didn't take much to know that when someone yelled like that, trouble was quick to follow.

He made a move to turn the next corner, but a force knocked him back, flat onto his back.

"Jesus!" Josh yelled in pain, rubbing his sore bottom.

He heard a low moan to his right. He pointed his handgun at the sound solely on instinct. Luckily, he didn't pull the trigger on instinct. The groan hadn't come from a zombie as initially thought, but instead a young bald man.

Josh tucked the gun away and rose to his feet to help the young man up. He grabbed him a little _too_ roughly by the shoulders and pulled him up, earning another small whimper of pain from the man.

"Why were you running so fast?" Josh casually asked.

"THEY'RE IN THE BUILDING!' the man yelled in his face. Then, Josh saw the fear in the man's eyes, saw how wide his pupils were and how his eyes darted back and forth madly.

With his message passed, the man turned and ran, screaming his head off. Josh couldn't help but think of Paul Revere, the patriot that warned everyone of the British army.

Josh stood thinking for a second, then he realized he didn't have a second. The zombies were coming and everyone had to get out.

xXxXx

"What do we do with the bodies?" Christie asked.

Drew didn't say anything, just stared at the bodies a little longer, hoping one of them would come alive and give the answer to him.

"Should we burn them?" Christie continued.

"That would be the simplest way to make sure the disease didn't pass to anyone else," Lauren said.

Drew finally spoke up. "I don't really think we have to do that. I've only seen people get infected through direct contact. Fluid to fluid kind of stuff."

"That doesn't mean it can't pass through the air," Lauren interjected. "It could just take longer. Direct contact could just be an accelerated infection."

Her words rang through his head like a knockout bell. _Does that mean I'm infected?_ he thought. He absentmindedly checked his arms for cuts and blood. His arms remained spotless, but it did nothing to lessen his apprehension. _Am I infected just because I'm here? The virus could be on everything. I could be breathing it in right now and not even realize it. So does that mean I'll turn into one of them even if I'm not bit? And if so, how long?_

_How long?_

"So does that mean I'm infected right now?" Christie asked, echoing Drew's thoughts.

Lauren sighed. "There's no way I can be sure for certain unless I could check one of your blood samples, and maybe cross checked it with the blood from one of these guys."

Drew was about to offer himself as a test subject when he was interrupted by several screams echoing through the halls. Without thinking, he pulled out his handgun and ran for the door, pushing his way through the crowd still gathered there. Once again, no one moved. They stood there dumbfounded, like perplexed fish staring at the glass of an aquarium.

Once Drew got into the hall, his walk turned into a steady jog. The screams came from the library, the main center of activity. Drew didn't need much of an imagination to have an idea of what was going on. One zombie had somehow been unaccounted for; it was very possible another had been as well. With how fast the virus spread, it would only take one to cause havoc.

The door to the library had been left wide open, and as Drew approached the screams turned into many voice at once, all in uproar. It wasn't until he stood in the doorway that he could pick out bits and pieces.

"How'd they get in?"

"Where are we going to go?"

A man stood on one of the many tables. His altitude alone commanding respect. As it turned out, when a soapbox wasn't handy, a table more than made up for it.

Drew crossed his arms, listening intently. While many voices spoke at once, Drew's ear had been finely tuned by music, allowing him to remove the other voices from his mind. No different than soloing a track in the recording studio.

"I'm telling you they got in!" the bald man yelled fervently. "Someone lifted the gate, and let them in! I tried to stop him but I couldn't!" He paused for a second. "He shot at me!" He finally added as if it had weight, and the weird thing was, it did. "I ran here as fast as I could! But listen to me, we need to get out of here! We need to leave now!"

Immediately the crowd went into an uproar again. So many voices speaking at once with so many different tempos, even Drew's musical ear couldn't separate them. Drew thought about pointing his gun at the ceiling and shooting it to silence everyone, like he had seen in the movies, but he immediately changed his mind. The idea just seemed stupid, the bullet could ricochet anywhere, and he had no idea if it could injure someone in the room. Instead, he stood silent, watching all around him.

Then, a slight touch on the shoulder. Drew turned, seeing Steve and the look of horror etched on his face. "I don't think we have time to go," Steve said slowly, gesturing to the hall.

Drew knew what his eyes would see even before he saw the shambling mass of rotting flesh moving down the hall. The bassist cursed at the events. "Get in here."

"No!" Sam hollered. "Sarah's out there! I can't leave her. She's all I have left, and she needs me!"

With that, Sam rushed past Steve, pushing him away.

"Wait!" Drew called. "If you go out there you won't be able to get back in! You'll be stuck there with them!"

Sam didn't respond, and Drew understood in a way. His loved one was out there, and if he stayed where he was safe and she died, how could he ever live with himself. Drew thought briefly about Josh, he was out there too. With that thought, he almost took off, tearing after Sam so he could find Josh. However, his body didn't react that way.

There was a key difference in Josh and Sarah's situation. Josh had the frame of mind to take care of himself; Sarah was basically incapacitated. She stood no chance, and Josh did. Drew also felt like his place was in the library, to take care of those around him.

_Don't die on me Josh, _Drew thought. _If you do, I'll never be able to live with myself. So take care of yourself._

Even though Josh wasn't there to hear him— nor could he anyway even if he was there (unless he could read minds)— Drew thought Josh had somehow received the message.

Steve and Michael had entered the library after Sam bolted out, and Drew shut the wide, double doors. Still, Drew had known these creatures long enough to know a simple shut door wouldn't deter them. They were relentless.

"Help me move something to block these doors!" Drew barked.

"What about the people out in the hall?" Christie asked.

"We can't worry about them now," Drew said. "They're going to have to find their own place to hide. If we go out there for them now, everyone here will die.

"What can we use to block the door?" Michael asked, looking around the room.

"Those bookcases."

Steve scoffed. "We'll never be able to move them."

"If we get enough people to help we can slide them in front. It'll take some work." Drew smiled before following up with the remark, "What's the matter? Don't want to get sweaty with all the hard work?"

Surprisingly, Steve didn't take offense to the remark. Instead, he gave a sly smile and moved to one of the bookcases. Drew and Michael pushed on one side, while Steve and Christie tried their best to pull on the other. The bookcase didn't budge. Drew shot a look to the crowd, still gathered around the bald man and his diatribe, still oblivious to the danger approaching. He wished one of them would help.

"Let me help you," a fit Latino man said. He moved next to Drew and pushed. Surprisingly, the large bookcase gave, moving slightly. A few books tumbled from its shelves in the transfer.

"Thanks a lot," Drew said, holding out his hand. "Name's Drew."

"Alejandro," the man said. His hair was cut in a buzz cut, and he wore a pink dress-shirt and a pair of black slacks. "Just call me Alex, everyone else does."

"Thanks again, Alex. Now, if you excuse me, I have something to take care of."

Once again, Drew pushed his way through the crowd, not apologizing even when he felt the hot stares of those he pushed gently out of his way. Finally, Drew reached the table and climbed it. The bald man shot him a look of sickened disgust, as if the man wondered how dare another join him on his table and steal his spotlight.

Drew didn't care. He had more pressing matters to deal with. Besides, what he was essentially doing was backing the man up.

"It's true!" Drew yelled, doing his best to project his tiny voice. "In fact, they're here!" A murmur ran through the crowd, and Drew waited for it to die before continuing. "But because we've all been sitting here bickering, they're already outside the door!" Everyone grew silent at once.

Drew grew surprised. He had heard about group mentality before, had even witnessed it a few times at his concerts, but it had never been more evident than here. Just looking over the crowd, he didn't see individuals; he saw one large entity, a single entity with many faces, hundreds of eyes, yet seemed to think as one.

_THUMP! THUMP!_

The knocks came slowly, but deliberately. The entity in front of Drew gasped and cried at the same time.

"We need to get the hell out of here!" a voice cried in terror.

"Go to the emergency exits!"

"Wait!" Drew called out, but it was too late. In terror, the crowd ran to back of the library, to the emergency exits. With any other emergency, exiting the building might have been the sane choice, but this was a different kind of emergency. This emergency didn't have exact protocols to follow, but Drew thought he was starting to figure some out first hand. If he were to write them out, rule number one would be: "Don't open a door to the outside unless you are absolutely sure there are no zombies behind it."

Watching the group of survivors move to the door, Drew could all too easily envision a horde of the undead ghouls waiting on the other side.

Drew hopped off the table and ran for the door, yelling as he did so. "Don't be stupid! If you open that door you'll let more in!" He tried shoving his way through the people blocking his path, but this time, not everyone was willing to let him go. Suddenly, he felt hands press against his chest, and he was shoved back. Not expecting this retaliation, he fell onto his ass.

Desperate, Drew tugged at the handgun on his waistband. Even though he had thought firing the gun into the air was stupid before, he was willing to try it as a last-ditch effort. Before he could fire a shot, it was too late.

From his sitting position on the floor, Drew couldn't see the door open, but he heard the screams.

Drew rose to his feet, realizing that they were screwed now. He strung a line of profanities together, looking for a way out of the situation.

xXxXx

His chest started to itch.

Neil still sat in the chair, arms handcuffed behind him, making it impossible to itch his chest. In a way he was thankful. He understood that scratching the wound may not have been the best idea, but it also made his stay that much more aggravating.

Neil gritted his teeth, trying to take his mind away from the searing itch in his chest. His right leg bounced up and time, keeping time to a insane tempo.

He closed his eyes, trying to move his mind as far away from the irritation. He imagined it was hunting season. He sat in his hunting blind, waiting for his quarry. It was early morning, the sun just began to climb over the horizon. He had awoken before the sun. He had to if he wanted to bag a deer.

His eyes scanned the bush, absorbing the vibrant colors of the fall foliage. Nearby, a squirrel rustled in the fallen leaves, drawing Neil's eyes. His finger tensed on the trigger of the rifle, but he didn't fire. He was waiting for something else, something bigger.

Another rustle. Neil cautiously turned to it, expecting another small mammal or bird. Instead, he saw the body of a large buck moving royally through the undergrowth about a hundred yards away. Neil's breath died in his breath. This was the one, the one he had been waiting for.

Not a muscle twitched. Not even an eyelash flickered. The buck moved closer, unaware of the hunter in the tree. As it approached, Neil caught sight of its rack. Sixteen points. This was indeed the one. He brought the scope to his eye and lined up the sights. It was just about in range. His finger tensed on the trigger. He took a deep breath, steadying his aim. He fired.

_BANG!!_

The sound of the door slamming open jarred Neil from his Zen-like daydream. As expected, Josh stood in the door way. Josh drew in air with deep, winded breaths, but he didn't seem to be that tired. He seemed to be trying to regain his breath, knowing that there was more running to be done.

Neil said nothing, just watched the drummer as he worked his way to the back of Neil's chair and pulled out the key to the handcuffs. With a _click,_ the handcuffs fell off his wrist, landing on the dusty floor.

Neil didn't stand just yet, just rubbed his wrist, trying to free his skin of the cold, metallic touch that lingered. "What gives? I thought you were going to keep me locked in here until you saw what happened?"

"Can't do that anymore. They got in. I don't know how far they've gotten, but we have to hurry if we want to get out of here alive?"

"What's the point? I'm doomed anyway."

Josh said nothing. He only moved to the doorway, opening the door to check if any of the undead had come through it. When he saw that it was clear, he turned back to Neil. "What about Annie?"

Neil's reaction was instant. "You gotta a gun for me?"

Josh handed Neil the same magnum that used to belong to him. His fingers tensed around the handle of the gun, feeling the trigger. Despite the pull he felt to find Annie, there was an ugly part of him pulling him another direction, pulling him to point the gun to his head and fire. However, the urge was faint, completely eclipsed by his desire to find his little girl.

He didn't tuck the gun away; he needed it on ready, but he lowered his hand to his side. Neil looked to the drummer at his side and nodded. Together they walked out into the hall, fully expecting to be charged by the undead.

The halls seemed more hallow and vacant than they ever had to Neil. Before, there had been life here, the last survivors gathered together with a wall separating them from the zombies outside. Now, that wall had been breached. What life remained seemed fleeting, almost nonexistent to Neil.

_Don't think like that yet, _Neil scolded. _There's still hope, not everyone is dead. Annie is still breathing._

The duo walked down the hall, quietly but quickly. They took the corners wide every time, never knowing what lay beyond.

Neil's chest flared and screamed for his attention. Without thought, his free hand wandered, scratching furiously at the wound. When he caught himself in this act, Neil pulled away with as much mental force as he could gather. He looked over to his companion with a humiliated look. Josh returned his look with a worried frown, but said nothing. To Neil, that was worse than word spat from a venomous tongue.

Neil thrust his free hand deep into the pocket of his jeans to resist the urge of further scratching. He briefly considered what his wound looked like at the moment. Was it normal, just like any other scratch? Or was it starting to turn ashen and gray, like so many of the undead he had seen?

Neil was willing to bet the rest of his body that the latter was closer, but he just fine without knowing either way.

They turned a corner, both stopping dead in their tracks. About fifty feet ahead lay the doors to the library. Outside the doors, a rather large group of zombies. Luckily, the doors were shut, leaving the ghouls with nothing to do but beat on it with their fists.

"Shit," Josh muttered next to him. "I figured we'd be too late."

"Look on the Brightside," Neil said dryly. "Someone had the brains to close her shut before any of the bastards could get in."

"Is there a way out of there?" Josh paused. "Or another way in?"

Neil tried remembering. " There's an emergency exit to the streets, but that's probably not the safest option. There's another entrance on the second floor."

"Then it looks like that's where we're heading."

As those words left the drummer's mouth, one of the zombies, an older woman missing almost half of her teeth. She let out a moan and began to shamble towards them. Those not already occupied by the door in front of them, turned to follow her lead.

"Looks like we're going to need a little hitch in our step."

xXxXx

Panic everywhere. He could smell it; he could taste it.

Steve stood back by the boarded entrance, arms wrapped tight around his son's shoulders. He wouldn't let go off Michael, that much was damned sure. He had a large amount of determination in self-preservation, that was true, but it went double for his son. No matter how many undead came at him, he would still hold on tight to his son.

It was for this reason he hadn't bolted to the door like everyone else had. There was an impulse too, but he wasn't going anywhere without Michael. If the exit turned out to be a viable means of escape, the two of them would walk out together, but he wasn't going to risk his son in a mad dash for a way out.

_BUMP!!_

The sound of the body colliding with the barricade directly behind him made him jump. Michael noticed it and looked up at him, smiling.

"What?" Steve said. "They didn't scare me. I was just daydreaming…about basketball."

"If you say so, dad."

Steve smiled and hugged the boy closer. A Kodak moment if there ever was one, if not for the blood-curdling scream that erupted from the back door.

Those trying to push their way to the exit soon found themselves pushed back by those that had reached it. Screams split the air in two like a sharp axe. Steve wanted to run to the door, assist those in need. Instead, he stood, stock still, rooted to the ground by some sort of strange magnetism.

"Shouldn't we do something?" Michael asked him.

"What can we do?" Steve retorted. "It's too late at this point."

Evidently, Drew didn't think the same way.

Steve saw him in the crowd standing back on his feet. The crowd rushed around him. He saw him yelling something, but it was lost in the cacophony that filled the library. The bassist turned his attention to the door and fought against the crowd to reach it. Slowly, he disappeared into the mob.

Then came the gunshots. Then more screams.

Steve had stood rooted to the floor before, now, his whole body seemed to be held in place by millions of wires. He couldn't move a muscle, couldn't bat an eyelid. He just stood there, absorbing what was going on.

Some part of his mind registered that it could very well be the end for him and his son. The zombies wouldn't be deterred so easily; they would tear through all the remaining survivors, eventually finding their way to the back where Steve stood. They had no where to run, and would it matter if they did? He was still paralyzed with fear.

After what seemed like a decade filled with thousands of screams and gunshots, it came to a screeching halt. There was one last gunshot, and in the silence that followed, Steve swore he heard that final body hit the carpet with a soft _thud_. Some soft cries whispered from the crowd, but things had finally settled somehow.

"You bastards!" a faceless voice spat. Now, Steve found himself drifting through the crowd with barely any conscious effort. Michael walked next to him, seemingly joined at the hip.

They arrived at the back door to see Drew and another man barricading the back door with bookcases and table and whatever else they could their hands on. Meanwhile, Alex, the Latino man Steve had met earlier, withheld a struggling woman as she kicked and screamed, "You bastards! You killed him! You killed them! All of them! Bastards!"

"Calm down, Erica," Alex whispered into her ear. "There's nothing we can do for them. They were already gone."

"You pushed them out there! You killed them!"

Drew finished sliding a table into place and turned to the struggling pair. His face, white as ghost, his eyes seeming to gaze into some alternate realm. His clothes were completely covered with blood now, and Steve just hoped none of it belonged to Drew. At the sight of him, Erica cursed more viciously than before.

"Fucking murderer! That's what you are! You just killed all those people! Fucking asshole!"

"I'm sorry," Drew said, his voice somehow strong, despite his appearance. "But it's what had to be done. They were already gone - already infected. If I didn't do what I did, we all would have died. You would have died."

This statement didn't calm Erica, it just threw her into another rant. Alex didn't try to calm her; he just dragged her away from Drew, hoping some distance would calm her.

Christie approached them, looking at Drew with concern. "What did you do to upset her so much?"

"Something I don't want to talk about," Drew said as he walked past them. Steve watched him pass, wondering what exactly was going through the man's head. Christie followed Drew, hoping to comfort him in some way.

"We had to push some of them out," Elise said behind them. She shared Drew's faraway look, yet she remained somewhat clean. Her long, ruby colored hair was disheveled. She brushed a strand of it out of her face. "The ones who opened the door let them in, and they attacked right away. A lot of people got attacked, some pulled down immediately. The only thing we could do was get the door shut, and we had to push some of the living out there. Awful. Completely awful."

"Well, at least it's over," Steve said, placing a hopefully kind hand on the woman's shoulders. "It was hard, but you saved a lot of lives."

Steve looked around at the faces of those around him. He saw everything he needed to see there. He saw despair, exhaustion, and most of all, fear. He felt horrible for all of them, then he remembered he was in the same position as them. He also realized what they needed, a leader. They needed a strong, shirtless man with muscles that made him seem more like a truck than a man. Of course, he would come with military expertise, hundreds of weapons, radiate coolness, and his smile would be perfect and white.

Instead, they had Alex, the somewhat fit Latino man in a pink dress-shirt.

"Listen up, everyone!" Alex yelled. He had ditched Erica to take command, but from the quiet, it stood to reason he had calmed her down somehow. "What I want right now is numbers. I want to know how many are injured, how many are fighting fit, and how many have weapons. I also want to know how much ammo we have."

There was a quick murmur through the crowd, but no answers were given out.

Drew moved next to Alex, lending him a helping hand. "Let's start with the easy one. How many are here?"

Christie climbed onto one of the tables and began a slow, tedious count. When she was done, she counted again, and then did it one more time. "I came up with eighteen."

"Alright, now who's injured?"

"Erica isn't injured, but she's no use to anyone" Lauren spoke. Steve wasn't aware she had followed them into the library, had just assumed she had stayed there. He was glad she had found her way to safety. "I gave her what medication I had on me to calm her down. She's completely out of it. Besides her, there are four injured."

"Well, Annie doesn't really count either," Elise spoke up. She held the toddler in her arms. Annie's face was buried in the woman's shoulders, and Steve could only assume she was crying.

"All four of the injured have been bit," Laura continued.

At this comment, there were murmurs once again, though no one dared voice their opinions to everyone else. Alex addressed their concerns.

"I know what everyone is thinking, but we can't do anything about it right now. Our priority is getting out of here, not worrying about anything else." He bit his lip, thinking long and hard about what he was going to say next. "Still, we need someone to keep an eye on them. Lauren, can you do that?"

Steve approved of Alex's gravitas. The man knew what to say without causing too much panic. What he really meant to was for Lauren to watch them for signs of zombiefication, but how in the way he said it, it indicated only medical purposes.

"Now what about weapons," Drew asked.

"Does everyone here who is healthy have a gun?"

Everyone answered with calls of "yes," and Steve heard a humorous retort of "Fuckin' right," come from somewhere in the crowd.

"Now what about ammo?"

"Neil stocked most of the ammo in my classroom," Alex answered, giving the first indication for his previous profession. "He locked that up too. Didn't want anyone hoarding it all for themselves and leaving the rest of us with nothing."

"That's just perfect," Steve scoffed.

"That eliminates any chance of us fighting our way out of here," Drew said. "So our only hope is another way out. Alex, did I just hear you say you worked as a teacher here?"

"Yeah. I taught calculus and trigonometry."

"But I'm sure you've been in this library numerous times," Drew continued. "There's a second way in right? Not just the door on this floor."

"There is!" Alex exclaimed with enthusiasm. "I don't know why I didn't think about it earlier, but there's another door on the second floor." Instantly, he ran for the stairs and bounded up them two at a time. Steve followed, curiously, happily, but he took his time.

As he ascended the steps with his son, joy filled his heart. Everything had seemed so bleak before, like they were just waiting to die. Now, there was hope. Everything wasn't over after all. There was light at the end of that proverbial tunnel.

When he reached the top of those stairs, a cave in must have occurred, for that light seemed to have entirely disappeared.

"God damnit!!" Drew cursed, shaking the door. "Why the hell is this damn thing locked!"

"No idea," Alex answered. "When we first got here, Neil had to unlock the main floor door too. Guess we never thought we needed to unlock this floor."

"Does Neil still have the keys?"

"Yeah, but nobody's seen him around for awhile," Alex said, furrowing his brow. "I know Jill went out a little bit ago to find more survivors, he might have went with them. Then again, he would have left the keys with someone if he did."

"Josh is gone too," Drew grumbled unhappily. It was the first time the man had mentioned his companion, but Steve had known Josh had been on his mind ever since they barricaded the doors. Josh hadn't made it to the door in time. Josh was still out there.

"I'm sure he's fine," Christie comforted. "Josh has been able to take care of himself since the beginning. I bet he's more worried about us right now."

Steve wondered about the drummer. Everyone else put their trust in Josh, but Steve wasn't so quick to follow. Sure, he had proven his worth so far, but he could tell there was something going on under the surface. Josh seemed to be struggling the most out of all of them, especially now, with the death of his brother. Steve couldn't really say anything about it now, for everyone knew there was friction already between the two. That had friction had been lessened, but they would still point to it if Steve said anything about Josh's condition.

He chose silence, not addressing the issue at all.

"So what are our options," Drew asked. "Is there any other way out of here?"

Alex sighed. "That door right there is the only other way out of this library. There's some side offices for the librarian, Page…" He stopped there, remembering something that seemed very important to him, at least. "She called in sick when this first started happening. I didn't think anything of it, but now…Oh God."

Steve interrupted. "But there has to be some other way out. Maybe a duct or something. Air vent?"

Hope glimmered in Alex's eyes, and Steve saw a reflection of it in the others' faces. "There is air vent. If someone could get into it, they could move from room to room without ever having to see those damn things." He sighed, clearly disappointed in some point in the plan. "It's not that big though. It'd take a tiny man to maneuver them. All of us are too big for it."

Steve gasped. He knew exactly where it would go. No one said anything, but he felt all the eyes resting on him, on his son. However, he didn't expect Michael to be the one to speak up first.

"Then I'll do it. I'm small enough to make it through there. I'll crawl through, find the keys, come back, and unlock the door."

"No," Steve objected immediately. "You can't do it. It's way to dangerous for you. Remember how much I fought on you using that gun? There's no way in hell I'm going to let you go out there. Not where you're by yourself against zombies! What kind of parent would I be?"

"Steve," Drew said. "I'm not fond of the idea myself. Trust me, no body wants to go out there more than me right now. If I was the right size, you know you wouldn't even be able to talk to me right now cause my ass would be squeezing through those vents. Michael is the only one who can do this."

"He's right, dad. I'm the only one who can do this. Besides, what other choice do we have? There's no other option. It's either this, or we try to fight our way through them. We can't do that."

"There has to be other options," Steve said. He tried to stop himself from crying, but his eyes did water. "We just haven't fond them yet. All we have to do is think a little more and we'll have another option. One that isn't so dangerous."

"If we wait any longer, there won't be any of us to form a plan," Alex said. "Those things are coming, and the more time we waste arguing and the less time we use acting, the less we actually stand a chance of making it out of here in one piece."

"But— "

"No, dad," Michael interrupted. "I'm doing this. I'm older enough to decide for myself, and I know it's the right thing to do. No matter how hard it is."

"There's no changing your mind is there?" Steve asked. He sighed. Finally, he gave up, and fell to one knee, to stay on the same level as Michael. "At least give your dad a hug a promise, a promise that you'll come back. Someone has to save all these people, right?" He gave a weak laugh.

"I promise then. I promise I'll come back in one piece, with the keys, and we'll all get out of here." He hugged his father, and his father gripped him as strong as he could. He took in the dirty smell Michael exuded and cherished it. It wasn't the scent he was used to, but it was a scent he wanted to remember.

"Go do what you have to do," Steve said, pulling back and starring straight into his son's green eyes, his beautiful green eyes. "Be quick, be safe." Michael nodded.

Alex popped the last screw off the vent covering with a pocket knife. He slid the mesh covering off to the side, allowing Michael passage.

Michael dropped to all fours and moved into the duct. He moved all the way into it before turning and looking at his father. Steve smiled and gave his son a thumbs up, trying to look as positive as possible, even with watering eyes.

Michael turned around a corner in the vent and disappeared from sight. Steve frowned and couldn't help feeling that that was the last time he'd see his son again.

_Don't be stupid,_ he reassured himself. _You're just being a worried parent. He's a smart kid. He'll be fine._

That was what his brain said, and he believed it; though, his heart said something different, and he couldn't help but believe that part of him a little a more.

* * *

_A/N: Hello again. Once again, I feel like I should apologize for the wait. Man, I sound like a broken record, haha. I had a battle with writer's block, plus all this college work has kept me busy. Also, I've been working on another story idea. I've got a quite a few chapters written up, but I'm hesitant to post them just yet. Maybe soon. Anyways, thanks again to all the faithful reviewers. Your kind words keep me inspired. Untill next time..._


	24. Crawlers

**Chapter 24— Crawlers**

Despite being an air conditioning vent, the air was thick and musty. Michael wondered when was the last time anyone bothered to turn on the AC in the school. With no air flow, the vent trapped heat and dust, and Michael paused again to wipe sweat off his brow.

Still, he crawled on, hand over hand, moving on. Where to? He wasn't exactly sure. No blueprints had been given to him, but he knew he needed to find a safe place to exit.

_How far have I crawled? _Michael wondered, grunting slightly. _Seems like this thing stretches for miles._

Ahead, a thin light rose from the bottom of the vent. Michael sighed with relief and crawled quicker. Ready to be out of there as soon as possible. When he reached the source, he frowned with disappointment.

Directly below him, he saw countless numbers of zombies. They were jammed shoulder to shoulder, moaning and grumbling. Michael briefly wondered if those same moans and grumbles were actually a form of communication. Perhaps, they weren't as dumb as everyone thought.

Michael didn't like to think of them as actually intelligent beings. If they were, surely one would look up and see him soon. Then they'd probably build some sort of zombie-ladder and they'd catch him. Or worse, they might send guards to watch every single exit from the vent. Then, he'd be trapped, doomed to crawl through the vents until he starved to death.

"No sir," Michael said out loud, crawling over the metal net separating him from the undead. "I'm going to get out of here right now." He didn't look down as he crawled, afraid one of the zombies would feel the eyes and look up at him in return.

He reached a crossroad in the vent. He stared in the three directions he could go, hoping some sort of magnetism would draw him. Unfortunately, he felt no pull. Sighing, he went right, hoping it didn't take to him to a dead end.

Michael crawled on, crawled to an uncertain future.

Behind him, he heard a noise, very soft. He stopped, listening for a repeat. No sound resounded through the vent other than his steady breath and the beat of his heart. Michael thought of the horror movies he had seen. Always, the damsel would be out for a late night stroll and hear rustling behind her. Every time she'd stop and turn around, the sound would stop, but as soon as she began again, she'd hear it again. Finally, she would inevitable freak out and flee, running right into the killer and his axe, or the monster and his claws— depending on the movie.

Curious, Michael waited patiently, waited for whatever made that noise to make it again. He thought briefly of trying to trick whatever it was by pretending to crawl forward, then he could turn around and catch whatever it was in the act.

Feeling sly, Michael turned his attention forward and reached one hand out like he was going to crawl forward again. No sound.

Disappointed and feeling a little ridiculous, Michael crawled forward, still keeping his ears peeled for any strange noise. It didn't take long before he heard a sound echo throughout the vent.

He stopped again. It had sounded like a series of clicks. Almost like someone typing on a keyboard, or like claws on metal. Michael couldn't imagine anyone typing on a laptop in this of all places, so it was obvious what had made the noise.

_What could be in here? _Michael thought, his spine crawling from the icy touch of fear. As he laid still, another sound descended upon him.

_Chiirup! Chiiruuup!_

Michael's imagination grew wild with the possibilities of what creature could make such a noise. His first thought was a bird, but as he listened to the faint twittering, it seemed much more foreign than that, almost insect like.

_What do you know? It could just be a bird that got stuck in the vents. It's happened before._

Before his parent's had divorced, Michael had lived in a pleasant house with a painted deck. Before the deck had been built, a vent had been exposed. A certain family of birds had discovered it and made their own home within the home. When in the basement, the sound of tiny scratches and chirps from the winged family were loud, and at times, annoying. They sounded very similar to the same noises he heard now.

Michael exhaled with relief. Everything didn't have to be a demon from hell or an alien from space. There were natural creatures on Earth after all.

Then, he saw the shadow.

All thoughts of a bird crashed to the ground. The shadow twisted and swayed, but certain figures of it remained unmistakable. He saw stick-like appendages jutting out at odd angles from a sinewy body. What looked like a head twitched slightly as another chirrup escaped it.

The shadow was cast from something around a bend far behind Michael. He couldn't see the creature, for it hadn't turned the corner. Still, the shadow painted a very unfavorable picture.

Michael's imagination once again began to stir, fueled by too many late night horror movie marathons. The creatures he envisioned he never remembered seeing on those poorly acted B-movies, yet they were far more terrifying than the men in foam suits that qualified as monsters in those movies.

Not knowing what else he could do, he crawled quicker through the labyrinth suspended above the first floor of the school. He lost all sense of direction, yet he still crawled, desperate to escape the unseen evil.

Behind him, the soft click of talons (had to be talons) on metal turned into a frantic polyrhythm. The once-curious sounding chirps became frenzied with excitement and bloodlust.

Sweat poured from every pore. His heart beat frantically in his chest. He wasn't aware of it, but he had begun to sob in fear. He was panicking. He wasn't aware of where he was going, was barely aware of anything. He ran purely on animalistic instinct.

Michael's curiosity got the better of him, and he turned his head back to see what was in pursuit. He quickly wished he hadn't.

What came scuttling towards him filled almost the whole vent, but it didn't seem to mind. In fact, it was moving faster than Michael, seemingly at home in the cramped, tight quarters.

He couldn't make out the exact features of his pursuer, but he was drawn immediately towards the eyes, two perfectly white dots glowing fiercely. Michael could see it was indeed somewhat insect like, but he didn't bother counting the exact number of legs to determine if it was an insect or an arachnid. However, he was damn sure it wasn't four, and that fact seemed most important.

Watching the thing scurry towards him in a way that made his stomach turn inside out, Michael realized he would never outrun it. Praying it wasn't immune to bullets, he turned and sat up as high as the space would allow, making one last stand. He withdrew the pistol on his belt.

He suddenly wished he was back with his father, wished he had never acted brave. He thought about how bravery could be synonymous with foolishness. And here, he certainly was the fool. He wondered how the creature would kill him— with it's claws, with it's teeth, or maybe it would suck all the fluids out of him.

He thought of all of these things as he pulled the trigger repeatedly. His thoughts seeming to drown out the deafening reports.

No matter how quickly his brain raced, it didn't block out the shriek and hiss of the bug creature as the bullets pelted its hide.

In such a closed space, it was impossible for Michael to miss. Every pull of the trigger resulted in a shriek from the creature, and in response, a cry of joy from Michael. He couldn't see in the low-light of the vent, but his mind's eye easily saw thick globs of juices spraying from the creature.

He never realized when it stopped moving, never realized the creature had actually turned around to try to escape. He was only aware the creature had died when the shrieks stopped, yet he still emptied the clip.

_Click! Click! Click!_

The gun warned him of the empty chamber, and Michael finally stopped pulling the trigger. Panting heavily, he calmed himself. He heard no more chirps or soft clicks, and the figure in the dark didn't move. Though, he thought he saw a leg twitching slightly, the way a bug's feeler twitched after it had been squashed by a shoe.

He nearly dropped the gun from his hand when he heard more _chiirups! _bounce through the ventilation. They seemed to be everywhere.

It was hard to imagine a creature such as that to have companions. It seemed so hideous, so horrendous, it had to unique, completely alone in nature. Michael figured he would have learned from the night's horrors. There had been more than one zombie, more than one Screecher, and more than one Clicker. There had to be more of this creature (he would think of a name later when he wasn't so stressed out).

He reached for the last spare clip on his belt, but his fumbling hands dropped it as he tried to put it in the gun. He cursed himself for his clumsiness and fumbled for it in the low-light. His hands found nothing, and as sounds of the creature's grew closer, he forgot about it. He crawled as fast as he could. He wanted to imagine himself as a heroic soldier, crawling through the dirt, bullets flying high overhead, on a mission to save his fellow soldiers. Instead, he felt like a helpless snake after it had been cut in half, writhing, just waiting to die.

Michael came to another juxtaposition of crossing vents. He paused for half a second, looking every direction. To his left, he saw one of the creatures crawling towards him. Same on his right. His last hope was the path in front of him. He nearly soiled himself when he saw two luminous eyes bounding towards him.

There was no point in turning around either. He knew what he would see if he turned around. God had dealt him the losing hand. There was nothing he could do now but just wait for the claws, teeth, or suckers that awaited him.

Then, he saw hope. Above him, the vent went straight up as well. If he could climb it, he could get to the next floor. He wasn't sure if he could, but he was going to try. Anything was better than dying.

Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans to improve his grip, Michael began his ascent. He put his hands on both sides, and did the same with his feet. Moving the left side of his body and then the right, the going was difficult and slow, but he didn't think he had to climb far.

He looked down and saw a pair of shimmering eyes, gleaming with hunger. One of the demons had reached the bottom of the shaft, and Michael figured it would scale it much quicker than he. He looked up and thought he saw faint light around a bend just three feet above him. He was almost there.

Michael squeezed what little strength he had left out. His muscles burned and his bones ached, yet he kept climbing. He didn't dare look down for fear that he would slow and fall prey to his enemies.

Finally, his hand grasped the edge of the next level. Even though he thought he had exhausted all levels of his strength, he found something left to pull himself up. Before he could do so, he felt something wrap around his ankle. Even through his jeans, he could feel the sick, bristly touch of the creature.

He cried softly, kicking with both of his feet. He looked down to see the luminous eyes inches from his foot. In the pale light he thought he saw the creature's maw opening wide, ready to take off his foot.

"Fuck off!" Michael yelled, stomping on the eyes with his free foot. The creature didn't relinquish its grip, so he kicked again, and again.

_Chiirup! Chirp!_

The creature sounded surprise that its prey was actually fighting back, and that gave Michael a sort of satisfaction, a sense of victory. He smiled slightly as he lashed out even harder with his spare foot. The coarse touch left his ankle, and the bright eyes fell down the shaft.

Michael figured it wouldn't take long for the creature to regain its grip, but he felt like he had bought some time. He climbed fully onto the next level and crawled faster than before, fueled from the adrenaline of his victory.

Ahead he saw a faint light, and his heart skipped a beat, thinking the light belonged to another creature. Then, he realized the light came from another opening in the vent. There was a way out. He just hoped he wouldn't need any tools to remove the cover.

He chanced a look behind him. The creatures had reached the same level as him and were gaining ground.

As Michael crawled closer to his freedom, he realized it might necessarily be freedom after all. Surely, the creatures could leave the vent; they weren't magically tied to it after all. Still, he liked his chances on solid ground, where he could stand and run. He didn't know where he'd run to, but he didn't know where he was crawling too either.

He finally reached the source of light. His fingers wrapped around the mesh covering and he pulled. He exerted a large amount of force— much more than actually needed. Still, the cover was off, and his exit was clear.

Behind him, the chirps had grown into another frenzy, and Michael knew they were close. He could almost feel their presence.

He didn't look back, barely looked down. He crawled face first out of the vent, diving to the ground.

xXxXx

"How many do you think have gotten in already?" Josh asked.

"Way too many," Neil responded. "Remember that crowd gathered outside the entrance. I'll bet you all my ammo that they and all of their friends are already in here. They're roaming the halls as we speak, trying to find those who didn't get out."

"You mean, like us?"

"At least we managed to make it to the second floor. They'll get here eventually, but stairs will slow them down for a little while."

"So what's the plan?"

"I'm thinking we get to the library from the second floor. We'll use those keys you have to let everyone out."

"But what about from there?" Josh asked dubiously. "We can't just waltz right out of here, and now that we're on the second floor we have no where to go but down to them."

Neil looked at him, considering. Then, he said, "we'll have to play the rest by ear. But getting those out of the library seems like the biggest priority. Maybe someone in there will have an idea."

"Agreed," Josh nodded. "They can't stay there forever. I haven't seen a door these bastards can't break through. They sure are persistent."

Above, they heard several noises, bumps and scratches.

Both of the men stopped in their tracks, watching the ceiling.

"What do you think?" Neil said, looking at Josh with worried eyes.

"I don't know," he answered, never taking his eyes off the ceiling. "We can rule out zombies, not one of them is smart enough to go up there. I can also rule out Screechers, they're too big."

"Screechers?"

"Big, green, gorilla-men. Have claws and teeth as sharp as daggers."

"I think you might mean Hunters," Neil corrected. "Jill told me all about them. She had seen them before at the mansion. The files on them had called them Hunters. Forgot how they were made, and I'm sure I don't ever want to remember."

"Screechers fits better for me," Josh said, shrugging slightly. The noise above the two had died down, but Josh still didn't take his eyes off the ceiling. "If it's not them, it could be Clickers."

"What are those like?"

Josh finally took eyes his off the ceiling. "Almost human, except they have no skin, just muscles. They're very thin and the crawl on all fours. They have no eyes either, but they do have a very long tongue." He paused in his description to lift his pant leg, showing a thin red band around his ankle. The mark had healed well, but the thin band remained all the same. "One of them managed to wrap my ankle up. Felt like some sort of chemical burn. They have sharp talons too, and those make a clicking noise as they walk on walls, ceiling, floors, or whatever else they choose to walk on. Thus, Clickers."

Neil regarded him with a strange sort of fear and curiosity. "Never heard of those before. I don't think Jill had either. That's an entirely new demon."

The two continued their walk, albeit a little slower and a little quieter.

"Have you not seen any demons? So to speak," Josh asked quietly, still keeping his ears peeled for any out of place sound.

Neil shook his head. "I've seen zombies and more zombies. Though, while looking for survivors I did find an infected St. Bernard in a home. Let me tell you, that thing made Cujo look like a harmless puppy."

"Zombie-dog? So animals can get infected by this disease as well?"

"I'm not sure if every animals reacts the same way, but it seems pretty certain this virus affects everything. Jill even talked about large, infected, man-eating plants."

Josh thought about it for a moment before talking out loud, "so this thing can cause some serious damage if it gets out of the city."

"If it hasn't already," Neil interrupted.

"I don't think it has," Josh said. "Just a hunch, but I'm fairly certain with a town isolated like this it won't for awhile. But if it does, it's going to spread like wild-fire." Neil nodded his head. "And call me crazy, but I don't think the American government is just going to sit by and let that happen. They must be doing something to stop the infection."

"You don't think they'd— "

The thought that both Neil and Josh undoubtedly shared was interrupted by more ruckus above them, much louder this time. The sound of something (or _somethings_) crawling through the vents was unmistakable. Josh raised his gun and pointed it towards an opening in the vent.

He hoped whatever it was in there would ignore that opening and continue on their path, but he wasn't so certain in that future. No, it seemed much more certain that a fire-breathing dragon would fall through. Josh just hoped whatever it was, his pistol would be strong enough to stop it.

At least he had Neil next to him, and that gave him comfort.

The vent's mesh covering was ripped off, and Josh's finger tensed on the trigger. Something dove out of the vent, something very human. These human characteristics stopped Josh's finger before it could pull the trigger. Josh didn't see who the person was who came dive-bombing out of the vent; his attention was focused on what followed that person.

Crawling out of the vent and across the ceiling came a creature so grotesque and hideous, it made everything else Josh had seen that night seem like nothing more than household pets.

The creature itself was black and filthy, like coal. It crawled across the ceiling on four oddly human-like appendages. The limbs were long and bent at odd angles, giving the creature an insect-like appearance. Four other appendages stuck off the creature's back, but they didn't seem to serve any function. It crawled across the ceiling, emitting a strange chirp oddly reminiscent of a bird.

Josh didn't see a face, didn't wait to. He opened fire, shooting it three times in the back. In his peripheral, he saw Neil moving to pull whoever fell from the vent away.

The creature squealed in pain as thick ooze fell to the floor. The creature scuttled faster, closing the gap between Josh and it. Josh took a few steps back, firing his gun as he did so. Most of the bullets found their mark, spilling more strange ooze, but a few missed, chipping fragments of the ceiling.

Despite having a thin, frail appearance, the creature seemed oddly resilient to the bullets. He wasn't even sure if a well-placed headshot would drop the creature. Maybe this was finally one demon that couldn't be killed.

His pistol clicked dry, and he reached for another magazine, his last magazine. Before he could slam it in, the creature reached him. Still on the ceiling, it dropped its upper half, hanging down, right in front of Josh.

Even though the magazine was still in his hand, Josh had completely forgotten about it. He was transfixed by the face of the crawling devil. He stared into a set of white eyes glowing bright and fiery like the sun. The eyes were set above a mouth filled with teeth but lacking a bottom jaw. Drool rolled down from its jawless maw.

Instinctively, Josh ducked. He had no idea he had managed to dodge the scythe attached to the creature's arm. However, he was aware of the ooze and blood that fell onto his shoulder and the sound of a gun being fired.

_THUMP_!

The body of the crawling demon fell to heap in front of the drummer. He looked down into the eyes that still managed to glow, even when robbed of life. The creature's head remained intact.

_Guess it can die, even without a headshot, _Josh thought.

He half-expected Neil to come up and guarantee that the job was finished with another shot. However, another of the creatures had dropped from the vent, landing gracefully on its coiled hind legs.

Neil pointed his gun at it and fired. The creature would not allow itself to be simply shot however. It leapt to the side, moving much quicker than Josh expected. He supposed the muscled legs gave it a powerful leap. The bullet from Neil's revolver embedded itself harmlessly in the wall.

Then, Josh remembered the magazine in his hands. Quickly, he slammed it home. The two of them could take it down. Josh doubted very much that the creature would continue to dodge their shots, especially with the two of them firing at it.

Josh brought the gun up after it had been loaded and fired. He didn't pull the trigger sporadically; he knew he had to conserve the last bullets in his reserves. He fired one carefully placed shot and then took the time to fire another.

Indeed, the creature couldn't keep its eyes everywhere at once. He managed to dodge Josh's shots, dropping to the ground and jumping to the opposite wall. However, Neil waited for this move. As soon as it landed on the opposite wall, Neil plugged it with a well placed shot. The bullet tore into the creature's spine, dropping it to the floor.

Not satisfied with letting Neil do all the work, Josh moved in for the kill. The creature writhed on the ground, trying to recover from the wound Neil inflicted on it. A puddle of the tar-like ooze began to form, and Josh added more to it as he fired two shots into the head of the creature. His goal: the two brilliant dots the creature used as eyes.

Its cries of pain were silenced, but the body still moved. It continued to twitch. Josh was used to the death spasms of the creatures, and this one elicited no emotional response from him.

For the first time, Josh looked at the person who had dive-bombed out of the vent.

"Michael? What were you doing in there? And what were those things chasing you?"

"I think I'll call them 'Crawlers,'" Michael said. The boy was very pale and looked ready to empty his stomach on the floor. Instead, he just brought a hand to his face and rubbed the anxiety out of it. Michael turned his eyes to the fallen forms of the creatures and then back to the vents. "There's two Crawlers here. When I was in the vent, there were four behind me."

Immediately, Josh and Neil pointed both of their guns towards the open hole. Josh waited, waited for one of the creatures to rear its ugly, jawless head. A minute went by, but if there was a demon of any sorts, it didn't pop down to say hello. Feeling safe, Josh lowered his weapon, but he didn't tuck it away just yet.

Now, Neil asked the questions. "What were you doing crawling around in those vents?"

"I was in the library," Michael said. "A bunch of us were in there. My dad, Drew, and Christie are in there." He turned to Josh, directing this last statement to him. "We're trapped in there."

"What about the second floor entrance?" Neil asked quickly. "There's not a crowd of zombies there too is there?"

Michael shook his head. "Not at least when I left. It's locked though. I had to go through the vents to find the keys, then I could go back and unlock it."

Josh pulled the keys from his pocket. "Well, you found them. Now what do you say we go let those people out?"

xXxXx

"I can't stand just waiting here!" Steve said for what seemed like the tenth time in the last five minutes. He paced back and forth, pausing only to rub hands through his hair. He tried sit down in a chair. Drew wondered cheerfully if the chair was hot as lava because it seemed as soon as his ass touched the chair, he was bounding back up to continue pacing.

"Will you stop pacing, please?!" Elise said. "You're starting to make _me_ nervous." Annie stood next to her, holding onto her hand. She gazed around at everything taking place with a kind of innocence no adult could replicate.

"I'm sorry, but I just can't stop thinking about him. He's just a kid; he can't handle this! Sure he's got a gun, but he's still fighting the living dead!"

"I think you're forgetting he's a better shot than you," Drew joked lightly.

Steve didn't laugh, didn't smile, but he did calm down, finally resting on one of the chairs. Even sitting, he moved, bouncing his leg up and down.

Alex leaned against the wall next to the vent, arms crossed, surrounded by a solemn aura. Since Michael had departed, he hadn't said a word. He left the wall, walked past the group gathered around the vent. Drew followed.

"What's going on?" Drew asked casually as he joined the man in his walk. They took the stairs, slowly, methodically.

"I've got a bad feeling," Alex said. His eyes darted to the corners of the room, searching for some unseen danger. "I don't know what it is, but I…I can't shake this feeling."

"You're just worrying. We all are."

"It's not the same," Alex said, shaking his head. He moved towards the emergency exit, double-checking the barricade. Satisfied, he moved onto the barricade at the main entrance. "I feel something pressing down on me, and I'll tell you what, it's driving me fucking crazy."

Drew nodded, mulling it over. He moved next to the teacher and began looking at the barricade as well. As far as he could tell, it looked like it would hold out fine. He could still hear _thumps_ and _knocks_ as the zombies threw themselves against the door, but there were far less than before. Everything looked fine and ordered.

"I've had this feeling before," Alex said. "But never like this. Just a little bit here and there. One time I had this same feeling right before I almost got hit by a car. I managed to dodge it, just barely, but only from this feeling I think. It must have had something to do with how I've managed to survive so far."

"Well, has it ever been wrong?" Drew asked, wondering how much merit could be placed in a simple gut feeling.

"No."

"It has to be wrong sometime," Drew said, guiding Alex away from the barricade. "We're fine for now. These barricades will hold, not forever, but they'll hold."

Alex looked at Drew then shook his head. "That's what I keep telling myself, but I'm having trouble believing it. I'm reacting pretty strong. I really can't help but feel like something's about to attack, from out of nowhere. I'm starting to wonder if this what a mouse feels like right as the hawk's dive-bombing towards it."

Drew smiled. "I think hawks are the least of our worries right now."

To Drew, Alex's fears had little merit. After all, the man was just feeling a little bit of trepidation, even Drew felt a little. His mind changed when he heard the scream from the second floor.

xXxXx

_He should have been here by now, _Steve thought. His leg bounced up and down, firing like a wild piston. _Something must have gone wrong. Had to._

He couldn't take sitting anymore. He stood up and began pacing again, rubbing his hands through his hair.

"Goddamnit, Steve!" Elise said, breaking off her contact with Annie. "Stop pacing! You're driving me nuts!"

"Driving you nuts?" Steve scoffed. "You're kid isn't out there! I'm the one going nuts!"

Christie came upon him so quietly. He didn't know she was there until she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Michael's a very bright boy. He can handle whatever is out there. Remember, he still has to find the keys. Unless they were right on the other side, he wouldn't have found them yet. We just have to be patient."

"I can't be patient!" Steve cried out. He collapsed into a chair, and the tears began to flow. His chest heaved, but he couldn't stop himself. "I've already lost his mother to some other bastard! He's all I have left! Without him, what's the point of going on! I…just don't know."

Christie sat in the chair next to him. Pulling herself close, she comforted him in everyway she could.

"Let it out," she said. "You'll feel much better."

In hysterics, Steve had no idea what was going on around him. He didn't hear the strange sound coming from the vent that sounded like a birdcall. He didn't see one of the survivors (Steve didn't know this man's name anyway) go up to the vent and peer inside the darkness. He didn't see the man get slashed by a large, insect-like claw. He didn't see any of this, but he heard Elise scream.

Steve looked up. Through his blurry, tearstained vision, Steve saw a small hunched figure emerge from the vent, followed by more of these strange figures. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him.

He saw the creature in perfect detail then. It looked like it had been cross-bred in some laboratory (a highly likely truth). The result: a creature that looked more insect than human. The only human characteristics were the way it stood on two elongated legs and its jawless face, set with two bright eyes.

Lauren tried to flee, but one of the creatures leapt deftly onto her back, pinning her to the ground. She screamed. Her screams grew much larger as the creature began slashing into her with large talons. Steve winced at the sight of the clothes and flesh being torn from her. Not bearing the sight anymore, he fired his handgun. The bullets tore into the creatures side. It squealed, then hopped off of Lauren's dead body.

It landed on the side wall, and Steve trailed it with his sight. When it stopped moving, he fired again. His first two shots sailed to the side of the creature, leaving it unharmed. Still, the creature didn't appreciate being shot at. It leapt once more, landing on the ceiling this time. With its powerful legs, it crawled across the ceiling with uncanny speed, making a beeline right for Steve.

Every impulse in his body told him to run.

_Not this time, _Steve thought, setting his brows in concentration. _I'm tired of running._

He took a deep breath, steadying his hand. His heart continued to beat quickly in his chest, but the deep breaths calmed him, balancing his aim. He fired.

The creature screeched in pain as the bullets hit it. After the third shot, it lost its grip, falling to the floor. It only took it a second to recover before it ran at Steve again. Determined, Steve fired four more times. All of his shots were true. The fourth shot found the creature's skull, dropping it to the floor.

"Yes!" Steve exclaimed excitedly. There was no time for anymore celebration though.

Moving quickly, staying low to the ground to avoid crossfire and keeping his eyes peeled for any other bug-men making their attack, Steve moved over to Lauren.

He didn't know what he expected to happen. It was certain that Lauren was dead, and if she wasn't already, she would soon bleed out anyway. This prior knowledge did nothing to lessen the blow Steve felt when he witnessed Lauren's limp form and empty eyes.

He heard a small chatter, it reminded him a little of cicadas, just much softer. Steve turned, already knowing what he was going to see, and he raised his gun in preparation. The creature was much closer than he had thought. He cried out in fear when he saw the creature just a few feet away, rearing back its claw in preparation for an attack. Steve stepped back quickly, firing wildly into the creature's chest. A steaming ooze poured from the wounds. The stench made Steve gag, but he managed to keep his food down.

The creature fell in a puddle of its own steaming blood, and Steve finished it off with a shot to its jawless cranium. He reached for another clip on his belt, loaded up and joined the fight. He conserved his ammo, realizing he was low, only take shots when he knew he could make them.

He quickly emptied that magazine as well and slammed in another one.

One of the bug-men landed in front of Steve, but he didn't give it a chance to do anything. He fired into its chest. It was caught off balance with its back against the banister separating the second floor from the ten-foot drop to the first. Steve shot it a few more times, and it lost its balance completely, falling backwards off the second floor.

Steve walked towards the banister and looked straight down. The creature tried scrambling from the ground, thick ooze pouring from its legs. With a smile of victory, he aimed straight down and shot it. It stopped scrambling. Satisfied, he looked around.

Steve's blood turned to ice when he looked down to the first floor. Elise had been killed with her throat cut wide open and her eyes wide and staring. The little girl she had been protecting, Annie, was left with no guardian, easy prey for the bug-men. One of them had realized it and slowly crawled across the ceiling towards her, almost playing with her. Annie sat in the corner, hugging a stuffed frog tight against her tiny chest.

She looked so frail, so innocent amid the scene of chaos. Perhaps it was this realization that warmed Steve's blood. He felt the ice in his blood boil, a strange warming sensation he wasn't familiar with. It was blood warmed for action.

For once, Steve forgot about himself. He couldn't help thinking about Michael, wherever he was, and he realized Annie's parents must be just as worried as he was. What was he to say to them if he just stood by and watched her get torn apart by one of those demons? She was just a defenseless kid; she needed him.

He placed his sweaty palms on the banister of the second floor. Steve only took a brief glance before he vaulted over that banister, free-falling to the first floor. He landed roughly, tumbling across the floor upon his less-then-graceful landing.

He stood up, and his ankle cried out in pain, causing him to stumble a little. He must have sprained it on his awkward landing, but there was no time to cry over it. He had to get to her. He limped towards the corner, moving around the tables and chairs as best as he could manage.

Annie had no inclination of the danger crawling closer to her. She couldn't even run right now. The bug-man was almost right on top of her. Luckily for her and Steve, it stopped and cocked its head to the side, inspecting the little girl. Probably deciding the best way to kill her, or wondering what she tasted like.

Then Steve actually realized the source of the creature's confusion. It had never seen a child before. He wondered how long the creature would inspect her. Hopefully it would do so a little longer, for he still needed to close some distance in order to get in a good shot.

Unfortunately, the bug-man had learned whatever it needed to learn. It let loose a small chirp and fell to the floor, landing a few feet in front of the little girl. Steve didn't give it a chance to strike. He raised the gun, firing carefully as not to hit the little girl on accident.

Most of his shots missed, but two didn't. Those two were all he needed. The creature cried out in surprise and turned to face its new threat. Steve got closer to a distance he felt comfortable with. He stopped moving and steadied his aim. He fired again, emptying his clip into the creature. It fell to the ground in a death-spasm.

Steve reached for another clip, happy to help send the creature fully on its way. However, he couldn't find one. He was dry.

_Thank God I managed to get this one though, _Steve thought, sighing with relief. _I don't know what I'd do facing off against one of these creatures without a gun._

He hobbled closer to the girl, giving himself as much room from the shuddering creature as possible. When he reached her, he fell to one knee to reach her level.

"Annie, right?" he asked with all the kindness in his voice he could muster. "I'm Steve. I'm here to help you."

She finally looked up and gazed at him with deep, brown eyes. "Are they gone?"

"Not all of them," Steve said, not wanting to lie to a child. However, he still wanted to comfort her so he followed his sentence with, "but you're safe now. Steve's here. He'll protect you." He held out his hand, an offering of safety.

For a minute, he was worried she wouldn't take it. He smiled a little though when her tiny hand fell onto his. He closed it carefully, and the two of them left the corner.

They didn't make it far before Steve heard more of the creatures chirp wildly. He looked to the ceiling fearfully to see one of them crawling towards him. Steve carefully pulled the girl to the other side, trying to flee from the creature.

He had hoped to make it under the stairs where the two of them could hide until the whole thing blew over. It didn't look like that was going to happen. Still, Steve wanted to reach the stairs, maybe get to the second floor so he could have some higher ground. Unfortunately, those plans were crushed as well.

Another of the creatures leapt onto the path in front of him, blocking his escape. Annie began to cry.

"Don't worry," Steve crooned to the little girl to comfort her— and in some ways, himself. "It'll be alright. Steve is going to protect you, remember?"

He backed up, keeping his eye on the creature, waiting for it to leap at him. It approached slowly, cautiously. The other bug-man crawling on the ceiling dropped down to join its associate. Steve continued backing up until he felt the hard wall press against his back.

_Shit…_ Steve cursed. He didn't know what else to do. He looked down to Annie and his heart sank at the sight of the tears pouring down her scrunched face. _I have to do something to protect her. I can't just stand here and do nothing._

One of the creatures decided it had had enough standing around and leapt towards Steve, brandishing claws that were horribly sharp. Reacting quickly, in the only way he could, Steve grabbed the little girl and turned away from the creature. His body formed a shield against the creatures claw.

"AAAAHH!!!"

The claw tore through his back as clean as a hot knife through butter. He felt warm blood pour down his back. Another attack left his leg buckling under the pressure. Steve had never felt so much pain. This eclipsed every single injury he had throughout his life, even when they were all combined together.  
He fell to his knees, but refused to let go of the girl. He heard her crying and felt her tears staining the front of his shirt. As the next pair of claws tore into him, he barely felt it. His whole body was being washed over with a feeling of numbness.

_This is what it feels like to die, _Steve thought. _It isn't as bad as I always thought. Once you get past the initial pain, everything feels alright. In a way, its comforting._

He heard someone yell, but he couldn't tell what they were yelling. Steve supposed it was his name, but he only heard a muffled shout, like a voice covered by layers of blankets and pillows. Then he heard gunshots that were much clearer.

He smiled as he looked down at the top of the girl's head one last time. He had done it; he had protected her.

A voice, deep down inside him, yelled at him for being so idiotic, for throwing his life away like that, but it didn't take much to get it to shut up. That was the old Steve, the selfish one who cared only for his own skin. Steve was happy to be rid of that bastard.

He looked around to make sure all the creatures had been killed. He still heard gunshots far away, but the two creatures that had attacked him lay slain on the ground next to him. A figure ran towards him, but his vision swirled and danced, making it impossible to tell who it was.

He let go of the girl and collapsed to the ground. He closed his eyes, ready to pass on.

_I'm hope that balances things out, _Steve thought. _Michael better be safe now. He better be._

He thought about his son as the darkness came crashing down onto him.


	25. Desperation

**Chapter Twenty-Five— Desperation**

_CHIIRUP!_

Drew wiped the strange goo from his face. He fired again with the powerful revolver, trying to kill the creature. He didn't understand how something so thin could take so many bullets. He had shot it twice, yet it refused to fall, ignoring its wounds. Drew could even see its ribs. It reminded him of a skeleton, another living corpse. It should have shattered when the crushing bullets of his revolver tore into it.

With his third shot, the creature fell, shaking wildly before falling still. Drew took the lull in the pandemonium to reload his revolver. As he did so, he counted his remaining rounds. He frowned with disappointment when he found only three more bullets left after his gun had been reloaded.

_Perfect,_ Drew thought with disgust. _Nine bullets left and it takes at least three to kill one of these things. You better use these wisely._

He looked around quickly, trying to gauge how many creatures remained. It was hard to tell; they moved so quickly, jumping around the room like giant, blood-thirsty grasshoppers. Logic told him it couldn't be anymore than ten, but logic didn't seem to hold its weight in a world where normalcy was turned upside down.

Drew looked over the second floor balcony. Below he saw Steve, surrounded by the creatures. The little girl, Annie, stood clutching his hand in terror. Drew raised his handgun, but he didn't dare fire. He was no soldier — his aim was decent at best. Any shot he took from this range with his magnum would do more harm then good.

He ran for the stairs, trying to get closer. When he saw one of the creatures lunge, slicing Steve across the back, he ran faster. Halfway down the steps, the creature swung again. He yelled out this time. "Steve!!"

Drew could see blood, the blood that poured from Steve's back, and the blood that stained the creatures claws. Like a bull, the sight of red infuriated him. He finally raised his gun. His anger drove his aim. His fury steadied his hand.

With thunderous vengeance, the gun rang. His aim couldn't have been truer. The first shot blew out the back of the first creature's skull. His second shot hit the second creature right in the back. It tried to scuttle away, but Drew gave it no quarter. He walked up to it quickly and fired three more shots into it. Just enough to make it lie still, permanently.

Drew's rage didn't end there. He wished for more creatures close by for once, just so he could shoot more. He wanted to see their blood spilled. He wanted to hear their cries. However, he knew to calm himself, for there was something much more important on hand. He turned back to Steve and rushed to his form.

The man gently set the girl aside, who remarkably remained untouched. With her safe, he collapsed to the floor. Drew finally reached him and slid to his knees. He knew what to expect, but he didn't want to believe it all the same. Not until he saw with his own eyes.

"Steve?!" He called, shaking the man's body. "Steve?"

His eyes remained close, and his mouth stayed tight. Surprisingly, his mouth was drawn into a thin lipped smile. Despite the blood everywhere, the man looked very peaceful. Compared to everything around him, the man looked like he was living in Eden.

Drew turned to the girl then and held out his hand to her. She quickly took it, moving in closer and actually wrapping her tiny self around him.

"Don't worry," Drew said. "Steve protected you, and I'll finish what he started. No one here is going to let anything happen to you."

The promise may have seemed empty, but Drew had every intent of keeping it. He shouldered the girl with his left hand, keeping her tucked safely and securely. In his other hand he kept his revolver, ready to defend.

There were still several of the creatures left, and they had to hold out until an opportunity arose.

Drew didn't like the odds. Nor did he like that he was holding onto the girl. They made an easy target for the creatures. Then, he remembered the librarian's office that Alex had spoke of.

"Come on, Annie," he said to the girl. "Let's get you somewhere these nasty bug-men can't get you."

He moved across the floor quickly, turning to cover every possible angle an attack could come from. A difficult task, for sure. The creatures seemed to be able to leap from nowhere straight into existence. He made sure to watch the ceiling especially.

By the grace of God, he made it to the door and tugged at the handle quickly. He had expected to find it locked, but he was ecstatic to find he was wrong. As he opened the door with his back to it, one of the creatures dropped from the ceiling in front of him. Annie screamed in his ears, but he remained calm.

"Cover your ears," Drew said. However, he didn't wait for her to comply. He needed to act quickly, or they both were dead. He raised his hand and pulled the trigger repeatedly.

_BAM!!_

The gun fired once and only once. He had forgotten to reload it after he had shot Steve's killers. He cursed his stupidity. He needed a new plan quick, one that would at least buy him some time to load his three last shots.

The one shot fired from the magnum clipped the creature in the shoulder. It turned, howling in pain. Before it could recover, Drew had slipped into the librarian's office, shutting the door behind him.

"Go to the desk!" Drew urged the girl as he set her on the floor. "Hide there and don't come out no matter what!" She didn't act quickly, but she did act. That was all that mattered to Drew. There was no guarantee that she would remain safe, but in Drew's mind, she faired much better than any of the rest.

The door to the library had a small window set in it. Through it, he saw the creature staring back at him with yellow, piercing eyes. Even through the door, he heard it screech, and it leapt towards the door.

Drew braced himself against it, and the creature bounced off. The door jarred, and he grunted to keep it from flying open. He couldn't do this all day; he had to get rid of it.

Anxiously, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the last three round for the magnum. He quickly loaded it, taking desperate care not drop any of the rounds. When he saw the creature gearing up for another assault, he cupped the last round in his hand so as not to lose it. He gritted his teeth in desperation and braced himself.

The creature, once again, threw itself at the door. The door held again, but the window did not. One of the claws punched through the window, spraying glass.

"Son of a bitch!" Drew yelled, shaking his hair and freeing the glass stuck in it. The claw stretched further through the window. Drew dropped down to his ass, keeping the door shut but staying out of the claws reach. There, he loaded his final bullet.

Thinking quickly, he stood up and grabbed the door handle. The door opened outward which was helpful in two ways: it was more resilient to opening from the creature's assault, and it also allowed him to open it towards the creature. That was exactly what he did.

With all of strength, he pushed the door open. The creature screeched as it lost its balance and smashed into the wall. Drew heard a sickening _crunch_ as the creature was compressed between the door and the wall. It scuttled, chirped, madly flailing about to free itself.

Drew gritted his teeth again and pressed harder. As he did so, he raised the revolver with a free hand. The creature's head remained in the window, lined up perfectly. Its head thrashed side to side, imbedding the remaining shards of glass into its pale skin.

It didn't matter how much it thrashed, Drew managed to hold it back. Despite its loathsome appearance, the creature didn't seem much stronger than the average man, and Drew had all the leverage. With time it may have escaped, but Drew never gave it time. When he fired from such a close range, the skull completely obliterated as the bullet passed through it and into the dry wall.

"Gross!" Drew said, spitting to the floor. In the cranial explosion, chunks of blood and gore had found its way all over his face and even into his mouth. The taste was less than pleasant, to say the least.

Still grimacing with disgust, he turned back to the office. He couldn't see the girl, and that was good. He just hoped she would stay there until the coast was clear.

_Will the coast ever be clear?_ Drew thought. _Things look pretty hopeless right now. Little ammo, and no sign of their numbers dwindling._

He didn't give much weight to those thoughts though. He preferred to be hopeful. Hope would only last so long though. At this point, things were getting desperate.

xXxXx

As the trio moved closer to the library, it became impossible to ignore the gunshots. Without a word between them, they all began to run, Michael actually leading them.

_Didn't they board up the doors? _Neil thought. _They had to have. It'd be just stupid not to, so how did the zombies manage to break through so quickly?_

He realized he didn't have the time to wonder that, so he decided he could only run faster. As he ran, his eyes scanned the ceiling. The Crawlers had seemed to climb straight out of the darkest recesses of human imagination, but now that they had crawled into Neil's life, there was no denying them anymore. He had to keep his eye for it them, for he doubted that the two Josh and he had killed were the only ones. Michael had said himself that there were at least two more.

The trio approached a corner and Neil shouted directions quickly to save them time. "Left!"

"You don't think the Crawlers got into the library do you?" Michael asked, breathlessly.

"How would they get in?" Josh said, his breath a little steadier than the boy's.

"I left through the vents, and they seem to travel exclusively through them," Michael answered.

"Then we better hurry," Neil said gruffly behind them. "They're going to need the cavalry soon."

"Two men with barely any ammo and a kid without a gun," Josh said bitterly. "Some cavalry."

"Better than nothing."

Finally, the double-wide doors that led into the library were in view. All of three moved anxiously to it, and Josh pulled out the keys.

"Which one is it? Which one!"

Neil's mind fumbled the ball. He had so many keys on the chain; it was nearly impossible to distinguish which one was which. They couldn't test them all. By that time, everyone in the library would die, that much was evident.

"Damn it! Neil! Which fucking key?!"

Then, an image crystallized perfectly into his head. "The large silver one! Says '8A 20' on it!"

"Got it."

"Michael," Neil said. "Move back. You don't have a gun. Let us handle this."

"But my dad!"

"I bet more than anything your dad just wants you to be safe," Neil said. "He definitely doesn't want you to go running into danger without a way to defend yourself. So just stay here and wait, we'll handle it."

Neil and Josh raised their guns and ran through the doorway.

"Quick!" Josh yelled, managing to raise his voice above the gunfire. "We have a way out! Get over here now!"

The remaining survivors ran straight for the door. Christie was the first to reach them.

"Josh!" she exclaimed with fervor. "Thank God you're alright! We had to shut you out there. We were so worried you didn't make it."

"I'm fine," he said, half-paying attention to her. As she spoke to him, one of the Crawlers came scuttling across the ceiling. He raised his gun and fired, and Neil joined in. They dropped it quickly. "Had to go save Neil's ass. Where's Drew?"

"I-I don't know," Christie said, looking around. "He was just here a second ago."

Neil looked at Josh with remorse. From the drummers eyes, he could tell the man was already fearing the worse. If his friend had been killed by the Crawlers, Neil couldn't imagine what would happen to Josh. The man looked ready to collapse from emotional and physical fatigue.

When the bassist came up the stairs, both Neil and Josh breathed a sigh of relief.

A few more survivors passed Josh and Neil, but he didn't pay much attention to them. He had only a few shots left in his gun, and he needed to make sure every shot wasn't wasted.

"Look who it is!" Drew said as he reached them. "Man, am I glad to see you."

"Likewise," Josh answered, a smile on his face. "Now, let's get out of here. I'm tired of shooting these mutated grasshoppers." He looked around to make sure there were no more survivors. "Now, where's Steve?"

Drew shook his head. "He got clawed up pretty badly protecting that little girl." As he said this, his face went pale and he opened his mouth wide. He seemed to remember something important.

"Little girl?" Neil said quickly. "Is she alright? Where the hell is she!"

"Fuck!" Drew yelled. "I put her in the librarian's office on the first floor so she would stay safe! We have to go fucking get her right now."

Neil didn't say anything, just took off. Annie was in danger. With so many gunshots and screams, she was probably more frightened than she had ever been. He felt so bad leaving her behind, but he would make things right.

She was his world now, the only thing tying him to sanity. She was a reminder of how beautiful life could be, and he could never let her go. She was just a child.

"Neil!" Josh yelled behind him.

"Get to the roof!" Neil yelled back. "It's the only safe place! Also, there's more ammunition in the science lab. We kept it there just in case! I'll meet back up with you!"

He didn't look back then; he didn't dare. Looking back would only slow him down, and he needed to be quick to save Annie.

xXxXx

Josh watched Neil sprint, leaping over the bodies of those that had fallen, humans and Crawlers alike. One of the crawlers leapt for him, but Neil didn't even shoot at it, just nimbly jumped away, dodging the lethal claws.

Once again, Josh found himself chasing after another person throwing themselves into danger. The attraction seemed to great to resist. As his lungs pumped, he thought to himself, _What the hell am I doing? Why do I always throw myself into danger right after someone? Do I want to die? Would I throw myself into the fire as quickly as long someone paved a path for me?_

All questions he had no answer for.

Neil's heroic charge to save Annie drew the attention of nearly every Crawler in the library. They were his sheep, and he their Sheppard.

Josh stopped at the balcony. He looked down, right below him, he saw Neil reaching a door that must have been the librarian's office. One of the Crawlers stood posted right outside it like a guard of some sort. Neil's revolver dropped it before it could attack. Then, he disappeared from sight. Crawlers gathered at the shut door.

Josh didn't know what to do. If there was no exit, Neil was screwed. The only way out was being attacked by four Crawlers. They swarmed around it, shoving and clawing to try and break the door down. With no other clue, Josh began to fire the last of his ammo into the swarm of Crawlers. They screeched; blood sprayed; but none of them died.

"Come on!" Drew yelled in Josh's ears, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him away. "We can't do anything for him now. He's on his own."

Josh shook the bassist's hands off, returning to the rail. As he looked down, he realized the bassist was right. Still, he couldn't abandon Neil, so he did the last thing he could think of.

Grabbing a handful of books from the nearby shelf, Josh chucked them down one at a time, yelling and hollering as he did so.

"Come on you skinny fucks!" Josh yelled. "Stay away from him! Come over here! Easy meat!"

Drew saw what was going on and grabbed a few books himself.

"There's two of us here now!" Drew joined in. "Why go after him?"

The Crawlers chirped, sounding slightly confused. Finally, one of them moved away from the door. It climbed the wall, gaining ground, heading straight for the two musicians. Another of them followed, but two stayed by the door.

"Fuck!" Josh cursed out loud. They had helped a little, but he had been hoping to draw them in. He heaved his final book, something by Hemmingway, and turned to run. Drew followed close behind.

The Crawlers were fast, Josh had to give them that. They followed closely, the sound of their clicking talons impossible to ignore. Josh wanted to look back and see how close they were, but he didn't dare. He kept his eyes forward, focusing on the door and Christie telling them to run faster and faster.

The door grew closer. The clicking grew louder. Josh moved faster.

Finally, he reached the door, but he didn't dare slow down, not even a little. He passed through the door at a full sprint, and fell to the ground, rolling to a stop. Behind him, he heard the door slam shut and a great weight fall against it.

Josh lay on his back, breathing heavily. To his right, Drew lay next to him, laughing a little.

"I didn't think someone could get so pissed at a few books," Drew exclaimed breathlessly.

Josh laughed a little, sitting up. His heart seemed to beat faster than a hummingbird's wings. He wondered if someone's heart could explode from a sprint just like that. It seemed entirely possible.

"Let's just hope we don't have to do anymore running for awhile," Josh said. "I don't think my heart can take it."

"What about my dad!" Michael yelled suddenly. "He's still in there!" He pointed to Christie accursedly. "You shut him in there! How's he supposed to get out now?!"

Drew stared at Michael empathetically. "Listen, Michael," he finally said. "You dad is…he's…" he struggled for the right words. "Your dad gave up his life to save someone else."

"You mean?"

"Your dad is gone."

Josh expected hysterics, but Michael kept himself under control. He did cry. The tears poured and rolled down his face like a heavy storm, but he didn't yell, scream, or throw a fit. In a way, it made Josh feel worse, for it just went to show how much the violence and carnage had hardened the little boy.

"You said he died saving someone else?" Michael asked in between his silent sobs. Drew nodded. "Then he died a hero. My dad's a hero."

"There is no one more heroic," Drew said, grabbing the child and holding him.

This revelation calmed the boy a little. The flow of tears slowed, and he wiped his eyes with his arms.

"No disrespect to your father," Alex spoke up," but we don't have the time for a funeral right now. We need to get out right now."

"Right," Josh said, finally standing up. He looked at the survivors of the library attack. Only Drew, Michael, Christie, Alex, and himself remained. So many lives lost so quickly. "Let's find a way out before the place is crawling with zombies, Crawlers, and God knows what else."

As he walked away from the library doors, he didn't think about Neil, still trapped in there. Those kind of thoughts would lead to thoughts of a more violent, hopeless nature. So he pushed them away and thought of something more hopeful, safety.

"Alex, are there any exits you can think of?" Drew asked the Latino man.

"There's stairs on the east and west side," Alex side, "but those are just going to go downstairs."

"The first floor has to be filled with them now," Christie said.

"But what other choice do we have? We have to find a way down there and get out the back. If we hurry, maybe time is on our side."

"What about the roof?" Drew said. "Neil said it was the only safe place. We could go up there and maybe wait it out."

"But why wait it out when we could make an attempt right now?" Alex asked.

Josh spoke up. "We could easily get trapped down there. The way I see it is the first floor is a lost cause at this point. They're going to keep moving through the building, eventually reaching the second floor. Our only hope is to keep outrunning them." He pointed his finger to the ceiling. "We go up."

"Agreed."

"Let's do it quick then," Christie said. "They made it up the stairs."

Sure enough, the blond waitress was correct. Ahead of them, the zombies shuffled slowly. There were only a few, but in time they're numbers would grow to the point they would control the entire width of the hall.

"We have to move," Drew said. "Alex, where's the entrance to the roof?"

"Follow me."

Josh looked back over his shoulders as he ran. The zombies grew in number, turning into another swarm of dead flesh. In the middle of that group he saw something that made him stop entirely. He saw the flash of long red hair, a full red beard.

"Adam?"

He waited a little longer, waited for another glimpse. He had assumed the worse before, that Adam had become one of the living dead, but he had never really wanted to believe it.

"Josh!" he heard Drew yell. "What the hell are you doing?!"

The drummer shook himself free of that hypnotic trance. "Nothing," he called back, running to the bassist. The two of them ran together, increasing their speed to catch up to the other three survivors.

Alex led them around a corner, and they followed. Behind them, Josh heard a great crash. Something had fallen through one of the vents, and he didn't need to use too much brain power to figure out what it was.

_Chiirup!_

"Go! Go! Go!" Josh yelled. He dared a look behind to see only one Crawler chasing the group. One was too many in Josh's mind. He wished they had made a stop at the science lab. That extra ammunition Neil had promised would have went a long way. At the moment, Josh had a revolver and a handgun, both devoid of any rounds. If it came down to it, he supposed he could use them like clubs.

_How useless._

With no hope of defeating the creature, the group ran. The Crawler followed, hugging the ground, crawling rapidly on its four legs. It looked like a spider straight out of hell.

_If only I had some bug-spray,_ Josh thought with a sarcastic smile.

"Just a little further," Alex called out.

Suddenly a horrible nightmare entered Josh's mind. What if they reached the stairs and the door to the roof was locked? It seemed likely. After all, the school, caring for the safety of its students, would keep it locked all the time. He looked back over his shoulders; the creature was still twenty feet away, but that twenty would dissipate quickly once they tried fiddling with a lock and key.

They needed to kill the creature, or they needed more time.

"Drew!" Josh said to his friend. "Take these keys. You guys will need them."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Drew's eyes saw right through Josh's plans. "You're planning another suicidal run like back at the hotel. Fuck that, I'm going with you." He grabbed the keys and yelled to Michael. "Michael! Take the keys, you guys need them. Me and Josh are going to buy you more time."

The keys flew through the air, and Michael grabbed them gracefully.

"What's the plan then?" Drew said.

"Next corner, we go opposite of them, slow down, and hope the creature takes the bait."

"And if it doesn't?"

"We're going to have to find something to kill it with quickly."

Ahead, Josh could see the corner approaching. His already rapidly beating heart pounded faster. Now was the time to find out how the plan would work.

Alex, Christie, and Michael all turned left. Drew went right. Josh stood in the middle, looking back at the approaching Crawler. His chest rose and fell quickly as he struggled to get air. He hoped the creature would see his stopping as a sign of weakness and chase him.

As the Crawler grew near, Josh saw its eyes focused on him. He smiled a little. Things seemed to be going to plan. He waited until it was a little closer before turning right as Drew did. He watched behind him, crossing mental fingers. He actually sighed with relief when he saw the creature continue its pursuit of him, forgetting completely about the other three.

"Now what?"

_Good question, _Josh thought. _I had been too worried about if it was going to follow to think of something else. _

"Duck into that room!" Josh yelled. "We might be able to lose it in there."

Drew made a quick left, disappearing through a doorway. Josh followed him in. He slammed the door shut quickly, engaging the lock with rushed impatience.

The drummer stepped back slowly, never taking his eyes off the door. He drew in deep, ragged breaths. He felt the blood pounding in his ears. His anticipation grew.

_Maybe it didn't see us go in the door, _Josh thought to himself. _Maybe it doesn't know where we are. Maybe it went right by us._

Those were a lot of maybes.

Josh turned slowly, looking at Drew confused. The bassist returned his look with a shrug of his shoulders. Neither of them made a noise, listening carefully for any sign of the creature.

_BAM!!_

Behind the drummer, he heard a great crash. He turned quickly to see the Crawler falling gracefully from the vent. It let loose a victory cry — one that shook his bones and boiled his mind with hot fear.

The vents! How could he have forgotten about the vents?! It was how the creature had first made its entrance. How could he be so stupid?!

The creature had landed almost completely in the middle of Josh and Drew. Who it would go for, only the creature knew. However, Josh figured he could help its decision. He stood next to the teachers desk, and he grabbed a heavy paperweight set upon the desk. The paper weight was shaped like an Egyptian pyramid, only then did Josh realize he was in a World Studies class.

"Get back in the vent you mutated piece of shit!" Josh yelled as he hurdled the mini-pyramid at the Crawler. The creature shrieked from surprise or pain as the weight crashed against its hip (if it had a hip, that was). Josh grabbed the next best weapon he could find, a pair of large (hopefully sharp) scissors. He backed up as the creature branded its claws at him. He knew the creature would leap at him soon.

Leap it did.

Josh jumped to the side, landing roughly. Out of instinct, he rolled to the side as his body connected with the ground. The creature landed right next to him. He crawled away on all fours, weaving in between the desks, trying to find a barrier to separate him from the creature. All the while, his mind raced.

_What now? What do I do? What do I do? I need to find someway to kill it. Someway to escape!_

The creature crawled above him, moving from desk to desk, trying to slash at him with its claws. He didn't know what to do but keep dodging and hope to find a way to kill the creature.

Josh made it to the other side of the room, leaving the desks. He quickly climbed onto two feet and looked back. The creature leapt at him again, and he dodge, rolling to the side. He decided to fight back. He took the scissors and stabbed out.

He felt the sick sensation of the blade piercing flesh. The creature howled in pain, and hot blood washed over Josh's hands. He scooted on his ass, pushing himself away. The blue handle of the scissors stuck out of the creature's ribs. With the creature somewhat distracted, Josh stood onto his feet.

Behind the creature, Drew ran up quickly, a large, machete-like blade clutched in his hands. With an angry howl, he swung downwards, onto the creature's shoulder.

More blood. More cries of pain. The creature spun around, lashing out with its other, healthy claw. Drew had been expecting this and ducked low, swinging with a side slash, catching the creature in the ribs, right above the blue handle of the scissors. Josh watched amazed as Drew attacked the creature like a Knight of the Dark Ages.

The creature refused to flee, refused to give up the fight. It swung downwards at Drew, but he had moved away already. With a final swing, he brought the blade down on the creature's skull.

_THUMP!! THUMP!!_

The first sound came from the blade connecting with the skull, splitting it in half. The second came from the Crawlers body slumping to the ground in a bloody mess.

Drew stood over his kill, the creature's strange blood covering his face, breathing heavily. He looked amazed himself at what he had achieved. Finally, he looked at Josh and said, "I'm surprised I didn't throw up. You think I'd be spewing out everything from something as disgusting as this. I feel a little queasy, but other than that…I'm fine."

"You really saved me there," Josh said, moving in and giving the bassist a quick pat on the back. He looked down at the slain Crawler, then to the large blade in Drew's hands. "Where did you find the machete anyway?"

Drew flashed a quick smile, grabbing a stack of paper and using it to clean up his face. "It's not a machete. It's a paper-cutter. I pulled the blade off the machine. Thing worked like a charm."

Josh nodded in appreciation. He gave one more look to the creature before turning away and heading for the door. "Alright, I think it's time we joined with the rest of the group. We'll have to be quick and quiet." He turned back to look at Drew. "And bring that paper-cutter along too."

Drew wiped off the goo still on the blade with a piece of paper. "I wouldn't dream of leaving it behind."

As they walked into the halls, they could hear the moans of the undead reverberating off the walls. Though, not a single one lay in sight.

"They must be close by," Drew said. "We're going to have to leave quickly."

Josh agreed. "We just have to be careful not to draw them towards the others."

They walked with rush back towards the cross-section they had used to lead the Crawler away. Josh looked down the hall, expecting hundred of zombies to staring back at him. The halls were clear, though he didn't expect them to remain that way for long.

"How are we even going to find the stairs though?" Drew asked as they moved forward. "All we know is that they are in this general direction. We have no clue where it is."

"Nothing we can really do but hope for the best," Josh said grimly. "If we can't find our way to the roof, we can at least try to find the science lab. We can grab some ammo and try to hold off for a little while."

"Sounds desperate."

"Desperates all we really have right now."

The hallway offered no answers to their plight, only empty classrooms, open lockers, and the moans of the dead behind them. They were alone. Then, Josh saw something.

"Do you see that?" Josh said, pointing down the hallway.

"Is that a gun?"

Indeed it was. The perplexing thing about it was that it lay in the complete middle of the hallway, pointing straight to an unmarked, steel door on the side of the hallway. Looking at it, Josh realized it was left behind by the others. That was the only logical explanation.

The gun didn't look like it had been simply dropped and left behind. From the way it layed perfectly in the center and how it pointed perfectly towards the door, someone must have placed it.

"Pretty clever," Drew said in admiration. He reached down and picked up the gun. "At least we found the stairs."

Josh looked behind. The halls were still clear, nothing would see them enter. His eyes shot up to the vents. One of the Crawlers could have been hiding in the there, waiting for them to reunite with the others. Josh didn't buy that though. Except for traveling through the vents instead of busting down doors, the creatures seemed to have little other intelligence. They didn't open doors. They didn't even seem to communicate. So they wouldn't lay in wait and set traps either.

"Coast is clear. After you, Drew."

They opened the door and shut it quietly behind them. They stood in a cramped, tight hallway. Directly ahead of them, the hall turned into a large staircase. They had no where to go but up. Josh reached instinctively for the lock and locked the door. After it was latched, he stopped, staring at the lock.

_There could still be others in there, _he reasoned. _I can't lock them out. That'd be damning them for sure._ His mind's eye saw Neil and the little girl, fleeing from a horde of zombies and Crawlers. It was with hope that he reached and unlocked the door.

The stairs led to a furnace area of sorts. At least, that's what Josh thought it was. There were large gray machines, humming with life. The floor and walls were cold concrete. Nothing had been done to make the room more hospitable — that much was evident.

Josh's eyes scanned the room for another door. He saw plenty of open vents and realized with terrifying dread that the Crawlers used this room as well, as a hub to travel throughout the building. There were none at the moment, but there could be some soon. Suddenly, the roof didn't seem like the best plan, but it was all they had.

There stood a door on the far end of the room, resting on a small ledge.

They made it to the ledge without any Crawlers, Shriekers, Clickers, or any other sort of demons attacking them. Drew opened the door, leading them back out outside. Josh's eyes squinted at the daylight, slowly adjusting.

"They made it!" Michael announced happily. He rushed up to Drew first, hugging him tightly. Drew returned the gesture with a little bit of surprise.

"You guys just had to be the heroes, didn't you?" Christie said, walking up angrily. She looked like she was ready to lash out. Instead, she just smiled. "Well, I'm glad you're okay."

It was Alex who broke up the small reunion.

"How long do you think we need to stay up here?"

Josh looked back at the shut, steel door. "Who knows exactly? I have no clue when or _if _the zombies will stop searching and head back into the streets." He didn't mention the vents or the Crawlers.

"We may as well get comfortable then," Christie said, sitting down on the graveled surface.

Josh walked to the edge of the building. The roof was large, very large. Only when he stood on top of it did Josh realize how big the school really was. He felt like an ant on the back of a human's palm, totally and completely insignificant.

Below him, he saw the carnage of the virus in a different light. In a lot of ways, it looked like a bomb had been dropped on the city. Windows were smashed, cars empty and dented in (a few had even been flipped over), trash littered the streets. And there were the bodies, dead and undead.

He could see a dozen or so zombies, shuffling about, eating the decomposing bodies of those who had been killed and didn't revive themselves. Josh had no idea why everyone didn't come back. Maybe if the zombies killed the person to quickly, the virus didn't have time to affect them. That was the only explanation his mind could come up with.

Josh brought his eyes up to the sky. The clouds were gray and dreary. Nature seemed to be more of a reflection of his insides than anything at the moment.

"Looks like rain," Christie said, joining his side.

"Would it be too much to ask for some sunshine?" Alex said, approaching the ledge too.

Michael and Drew came too, and all five of them stood at the edge of the roof, looking down on the streets.

"Do you think we'll see anyone else alive down there?" Michael asked.

"Well lets wait and see," Drew said. "After all, there has to be some others still alive."

They didn't see anyone else.

xXxXx


	26. Right and Wrong

**Chapter Twenty-Six — Right and Wrong**

Raccoon City was bleeding.

The bodies of its citizens littered the streets as torn corpses or as the walking dead. Blood covered seemingly everything— the asphalt, stores, cars, streetlamps, and tattered pieces of cloth. When the rain came down, the streets began to bleed.

It started as a slow drizzle, as if the Heavens had seen the bloodshed and began to weep quietly for the lives that had been lost. As the rain came down, the blood began to wash away, began to run. The blood flowed across the asphalt and into the storm drains. To those who watched the scene, it looked like some giant being had been slaughtered and left to bleed itself dry.

Christie watched with little interest as the blood ran; she was far too busy watching the crowd of zombies gathered at the front door of the school. She noticed with slight curiosity that the zombies moved together like a hive mind, linked together by some psychic chain. They didn't move uniformly. They would move about independently— some moving that way and others move this way, yet the bulk of their numbers stuck together.

"You've been over here for awhile," Drew said next to her, surprising her slightly.

"How long has it been? Doesn't seem like has been more than fifteen minutes."

"Try more like an hour and a half." Drew leaned over the edge, looking at the walking corpses below. "I didn't know these guys could be so interesting. Maybe someone should make a zoo."

Christie laughed slightly. She liked Drew. They hadn't known each other long, but the man seemed to be holding himself together rather well. What she liked most of all was that in his eyes she saw hope, something everyone else in the group seemed to lack except for her.

"I've been studying them," Christie said. "I've been trying to figure out if and when they'll leave the school so that we can head back down."

"Any luck?"

She sighed and turned around, leaning the small of her back against the ledge. "Hard to say really. There's a lot more of them there than when we got up here. I'm pretty sure they all came from the school too. The only thing I don't know is how many of them were in there in the first place. I didn't have much time to take a census."

Now it was Drew's turn to offer a small laugh. "So when do you think we should make an escape attempt? I'm getting antsy up here, and this rain isn't doing much for my nerves."

"I guess we could try whenever we wanted to." Christie began to walk across the building, thinking about how the floor plans must have been laid out. Drew followed curiously. "If we can get to the back door where we came in, we could have a shot. I just don't know if any of them are back there." The blueprint in her head turned out to be near perfect, and she reached the section of the roof directly above the loading dock in the back.

Two zombies loitered in the loading area. The pile of junk on both of the ramps had done well to stop them from reaching the door, but they seemed content to just stand between the parallel ramps.

"Looks pretty clear to me," Drew said. "What do you think?"

"I think it's time for us to go," Christie said. "Let's tell the others."

xXxXx

Josh opened the door quietly, carefully. He hadn't forgotten about the open vents; he hadn't forgotten about the Crawlers and their sharp claws. Once again, he wished for a giant gun, something able to kill all of these terrible demons with a one shot. Hell, he even wished for some ammo for his pistol.

They had nothing except for Drew's makeshift machete, which the bassist kept clasped tightly in his hands.

Humming quietly, the machines in the furnace area stood like statues, monuments of humans long gone. Josh stood still in the doorway, listening carefully for the clicking of talons or the telltale chirping. When he felt confident nothing would jump on him, he entered. He led the group quickly past the machines, desperate to escape the heavy weight of trepidation pushing down on his head.

When the stairs were in sight, Josh heard the sound of his nightmares coming to life. A loud metallic _clang _echoed through the room over the droning hum of the machines. His eyes shot over to one of the vents, and he saw the Crawler pushing itself from the vent as if it was being reborn into this world.

"Run! Run! Run!" Alex yelled in the back, taking the words right from the drummers mouth.

A few more of the Crawlers joined the fray, wanting fresh meat. Josh would be damned if he let them have any.

Josh led the group towards the stairs, but behind him, he heard Michael scream with terror. He stopped to turn around to see the small child pinned under the weight of the larger Crawler. He changed directions and began to sprint towards the wrestling duo. He didn't know what he could do, but he had to do something.

Drew beat him to the scene. Screaming and hollering, he brought down the paper cutter. The creature howled, shrieked. Underneath, Michael crawled away to safety, and Josh got there in time to pull him out. Michael managed to regain his footing as the drummer dragged him, and the two of them sprint hand-in-hand to the stairs. Drew swung once again with the paper cutter— though the Crawler jumped back, dodging the blow— and followed them.

They seemed to leap all of the stairs at once as they descended. Josh flung open the door and pulled Michael through, Drew followed close behind, and they slammed the door shut— or at least, tried to.

One of the Crawlers managed to push its claw through what little space remained in the door frame, making it impossible to close the door. Josh strained, pushing with his shoulder and all his might. On the other side, the creature chattered furiously, waving its claw in a frenzy. More weight slammed into the door from the other side, and Josh gritted his teeth to keep it shut.

"Help!" Josh yelled. "They're going to bust through! I can't keep them held off forever!"

"Look out," Drew said, stepping up, paper cutter in hand. He chopped at the arm of the Crawler. After another hack, the claw fell to the ground, shuddering and spraying the creature's thick blood. Finally, the door slammed shut, and Josh sighed with relief.

"Let's not stick around, "Alex said. "That door is strong, but they'll bust through it if they really want to."

"Trust me," Josh said. "Last thing I want to do is stick around."

Drew glanced at Michael, who looked like he was about to be sick. "Are you alright? That thing didn't hurt you did it?"

Michael shook his head and took a deep breath to try to steady his nerves. "No, it didn't hurt me. Thanks a lot. I didn't know what to do."

"Anytime," the bassist said with a slight smile, ruffling Michael's hair quickly.

The group moved down the hall swiftly. Behind them, the steel door jarred slightly from the weight of the Crawlers. However, if and when the Crawlers managed to break back into the hallway, the survivors would be long gone.

"Where's the science lab, Alex?" Drew asked. "We need to get more ammunition before we head anywhere else."

"I hate the thought of going out there with only that paper cutter," Christie said in agreement.

"First stop the science lab then," Alex said. "It's on the first floor though."

"Great," Josh grumbled. "Let's just hope most of the zombies are gone. You were pretty sure about that right, Christie?"

"As sure as I could be," the blond waitress replied. "Like I said, a good number of them were back outside. My guess is that they moved through the school, but didn't find anyone here so they're going back outside."

"I guarantee some stayed behind," Alex said. "We'll have to be careful. As long as they're not packed too tightly we could get by them with little trouble."

Surprisingly, they managed to reach the stairs without witnessing any zombies or Crawlers. Every once and awhile, from someplace far away, a moan would find its way to them, but it was impossible to tell where it came from.

Drew led the way down the stairs, carrying the paper-cutter high in his hands like a torch, guiding the others. A zombie stood at the bottom of the stairs, his back turned, gazing down the hallway. With a scowl on his tired face, Drew swung the blade sideways into its neck, right below a shambled mess of black, greasy hair. A soft moan escaped the zombies dry lips, but the blade didn't go through far enough.

"Gross," Michael said, turning away in disgust, but Josh didn't. He watched as Drew swung again to finish the pitiful creature off, severing its head clean from his shoulders.

Josh walked over the body, not wanting to look at the mess that had been made.

"Don't look," Christie agreed, taking Michael by the hand and leading him away from the body. The boy tried to look away, but like flies to light, he was drawn to the violence. Though he said nothing, his face was transparent, exposing all the emotions inside him.

Josh looked towards the doors on the side of the hallway as they passed. Most classrooms were closed, but a few were open. Inside, most were empty, but in one he saw a group of zombies gathered around a corpse. He shuddered, but shouldered on. However, what he saw in the following room, he would never be able to shake from his mind.

Through the doorway, a window to the horror, he saw a Crawler. It didn't notice him, for it was far too busy with its own world. A body lay before it, head decapitated, body sliced from top to bottom. The Crawler perched itself curiously over the body, delicately carving into the body with its claws. It didn't seem to be destroying the body, instead (and perhaps even more disturbing) it seemed to be inspecting the body. Josh stopped in his tracks in gross fascination to watch what appeared to be a dissection.

When the Crawler suddenly snapped its beady eyes towards him, clicking softly, Josh moved and stepped away from the doorway. He hoped that it would be too interested in its science experiment to look for a new guinea pig, but he kept looking over his shoulders to make sure.

"I was just about to go back for you," Drew said as Josh caught up and walked by him. "What was that about?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Josh said. Then, after a second of deliberation he leaned in closer and dropped his voice. "One of the Crawlers was performing what looked like a dissection on a dead body." His body quivered slightly as he spoke, and it took every ounce of his being to steady himself.

Drew glanced backwards. "Was it anyone we know?"

The drummer could only shake his head. "Not anyone I knew. But does that change anything?"

Drew shrugged his shoulders. "I don't even know anymore."

Looking at his companion, Josh began to wonder what was going on inside his head. Why didn't Drew feel like he did? Why didn't he feel as concerned about all that was going on? He seemed so indifferent to the violence around then, and that got under the drummer's skin a little.

"This is it," Alex said in front of them. The door wasn't locked, and the teacher calmly opened the door. "Let's try to make this quick. Grab what we need and get the hell out of here."

Inside the science lab, the makeshift armory awaited. Josh had been hoping for some super weapons— a chain gun, a flamethrower, or even a rocket launcher— anything that would tear through the undead. Unfortunately, the normal citizens had no access to weapons such as that. They had a modest arsenal: handguns, a few shotguns, fewer rifles, a couple of revolvers, and a humble amount of bullets for each.

They divided the handgun ammo among each of them, resulting in around seven clips for each. Drew and Josh both reloaded their revolvers and grabbed two speed loaders. Josh took the time to load a shotgun and grabbed twelve extra shells for it; Alex followed suit.

"Sure you can handle that?" Drew asked Christie as she loaded up her own shotgun. "Thing packs a little more punch than that handgun."

"I'll get used to it," Christie said, grabbing a handful of shells and dumping them into her pockets. "After all that I've seen, I don't feel safe with just a handgun."

"Don't blame you," Drew said, picking up a rifle and looking over it. Satisfied, he loaded it up and grabbed some extra ammo.

"Do you really want to use that?" Josh asked. "I can't see that being useful in close quarters."

"I'll be fine," Drew said. "On the open streets, it will help a lot. Besides, if everyone of us carries a shotgun, that just makes less ammo to go around. Might as well use all that we have."

"Do I get anything besides a handgun?" Michael asked.

Josh looked around to the other adults. Suddenly, he felt a pang of guilt rip through his heart. _Steve should be the one to make this decision. He was the kids father after. It just doesn't seem right for some strangers to choose._ For that reason, Josh kept his mouth shut.

Drew made the decision, grabbing a revolver and some speed loaders. In front of him, he loaded it very slowly with the speed loader so that Michael would understand how it worked. When it was loaded, he handed it over to the child, who admired it with a sort of reverie. "Be even more careful with this," the bassist warned. "The kick is much harder than what you'd expect. Always fire with two hands on it. Got it?"

"Yeah, I got it."

Josh kept staring with his arms crossed. He didn't voice his opinion. Whatever he had to say, it didn't matter to anyone else. So instead he just asked, "Everyone got what they need?" Those around him nodded. "I think its time to head out. We didn't leave anything behind in here did we?"

"Just some extra guns we don't need," Alex said. "We have all the ammo we can carry, what little there is."

"It's better than nothing," Drew said. "Now let's go find some survivors. There has to be someone else in this building that is still alive."

"It would be quicker to split up," Christie said. "We can cover more ground."

"Yeah, but it's also more dangerous," Alex brought up.

"It's dangerous to stay here," Drew spoke up. "I think we should get out of here as fast as we can. The less time we spend in here, the better. Besides, we're killing daylight."

"We have to look for some survivors," Josh said. "There could still be people in here who need our help."

"Then we should split up like Christie said," Drew agreed. "We can cover more ground and take less time."

Josh took charge. "Let's just split into two groups. Drew's with me."

"Where are you guys going to go?" Christie asked.

Drew looked at his friend and answered as if he had read Josh's mind. "We're going to the library real quick. We have to see if Neil and Annie are still alright."

"We'll head back to the second floor and see if anyone else made it into some of the classrooms up there," Alex said. "If anyone else survived that attack, I'm positive they went for higher ground like we did."

"Right," Drew nodded. "Sounds like a good plan. After we're done in the library we'll start looking through the classrooms too. We'll handle the first floor, you guys handle the second, and we'll meet up at the back in…half an hour?"

"Sounds good," Christie said. "But don't hesitate to get back there sooner. The quicker we do this the better. Right?"

Drew and Josh both nodded. Then, the group left the makeshift armory. Josh and Drew turned right; the rest turned left.

"Should we check these classrooms now?" Drew asked, as they jogged towards the library.

"Not yet. Let's find Neil first. We know he's somewhere in here."

Drew said nothing all the way to the wide doors. They were open, of course. Such a barricade could never hold back the zombies— they were relentless in that regard. The bookshelves that had been set in place to block it had also been knocked down. Josh walked over the discarded books and had a strange thought:

_No one's ever going to read these books again. Once, they had been read by the students of the school who knows how many times, and now, no one will ever look at their pages again._

He didn't know how he knew that, but he did. It stood to chance that someone could come back after this entire mess had blown over, pick up a copy of _Moby-Dick _by Herman Melville, and enjoy a relaxing read, but Josh didn't buy that. He couldn't explain why, but he had never been more sure of anything in his life.

Whatever large group of zombies had broken down the door had long since left for better grounds. A few stragglers remained, staggered around the cluttered floor, standing still as trees.

Drew nodded at Josh and the two went around with their handguns, disposing of the closest zombies with quick, efficient speed. After the first few gunshots, the others reacted, but in such few numbers, they were relatively harmless.

Josh aimed between the eyes of a gangly, stick-like man. When that man fell, Josh continued walking, moving closer to a somewhat short woman. Aiming his handgun with both hands, he hit her in the head and she fell down. He moved like this throughout the room, dropping zombies, and watching Drew out of the corner of his eye.

This was why he wanted to partner up with Drew. With the two other band members gone, Josh wanted to make sure the band would stay at least with two. If he was all alone, he wouldn't know what to do.

"It's weird," Drew said as the last zombie, an awkward teenager with long, shaggy hair, fell. "Never in my life did I expect to be able to shoot the living dead so calmly. It's almost surreal."

Josh nodded but said nothing. He was already walking to the small office set aside. The door was wide open, knocked nearly off of its hinges. Josh stopped dead in his tracks when he looked through the frame, and Drew stopped right behind him.

"Oh my God…" the bassist muttered quietly.

xXxXx

"I kind of wish I went with Josh and Drew," Michael said suddenly. They were currently checking the third classroom, only to find the same thing, an empty room. Though, in the second room, they had found a zombie, but Alex quickly shut the door before it realized they were there.

"Why do you say that?" Alex said, walking around the room quickly and giving it a swift, but effective once-over.

Michael didn't say anything in response, just stared at his feet.

"You wanted to see your father, didn't you?" Christie asked warmly.

The boy nodded.

"We can always go back. That is, if you want to?"

"No," Michael said quickly, "it's alright. I sort of wanna remember him as he was before."

"I think that's fine," Christie said with a smile.

"Well nothing and no one in here," Alex said. "Onto the next room."

They moved across the hall and into the next classroom. All over the walls, pictures of various animals from different environments. Here, a monkey hanging from a branch in the Amazon. There, a tiger creeping through the grass in India. On the other wall, a clownfish swimming through the coral reef.

Looking at them, Christie had a strange thought. Suddenly, she imagined all of the animals infected with the T-Virus, all zombiefied. All of sudden, so many beautiful creatures of Nature, all turned to hellish beasts. She shook her head, and things returned to normal.

_Maybe this is getting to me more than I'd like to admit,_ she thought. _I'm going to have to stay in the right state of mind though. Otherwise, I have no chance of getting out of this._

"Wait! I found something!" Michael exclaimed. He was looking behind the teacher's desk.

"What is it?"

"It's just a body," Michael said, "but it kinda looks funny."

"It's Mrs. Bienach," Alex said, looking over her. "She taught biology in this class room. To be honest, she was kind of a snooty bitch, but she didn't deserve this." He shook his head solemnly.

Christie moved next to the two, looking down at the body. It was a middle-aged woman. She wore a simple dress that had been torn. One foot was bare and the other was clad in a brown loafer. Her frizzy black hair was matted with blood. Five red dots stood out like stars in the night sky on her white dress.

From the look of her rotted skin, it was easy to figure she had been one of the living dead for awhile. However, there was something else strange about her. Her skin was tinted a dark crimson, the color of blood— though she didn't seem to be bleeding from anywhere but the chest wounds. Also, her nails had grown long and yellow.

"Why is she all red?"

"I don't know," Alex replied, "but I'm not getting a good feeling from it."

"Neither am I," Christie agreed. She backed up, pulling Michael with her by his shoulders.

As they backed up, Mrs. Bienach's eyes snapped open. From her throat came a guttural sound, resembling both a moan and a snarl. She quickly rose to her feet and charged for the survivors at a pace unseen from any other zombie.

"She's alive!" was all Christie could yell. She tried to unsling her shotgun, but she wasn't quick enough. Instead, she pushed Michael away and dodged to the side. Across her face, the yellow nailed claw swiped by, missing by a marginal length.

_BAM!! BAM!! BAM!!_

Alex fired his handgun, hoping to drop the creature, but the bullets had little effect on it. It kept on charging towards the Latino teacher, who backed up until his back was against the wall (right against a polar bear roaming across the Alaskan plane). He continued to fire his handgun, but Mrs. Bienach showed no signs of stopping her assault. Alex roared in defiance, but it was ultimately futile. This new, powerful zombie would destroy him.

_BOOM!!_

Christie watched in awe as Mrs. Bienach's head exploded. Momentum carried the body a little further before it collapsed to the ground. Letting his gun fall to his side, Alex exhaled deeply. Christie turned in amazement to see Michael holding the revolver in two shaking hands.

"Wow," he remarked quietly to himself. "Drew wasn't kidding. This gun has some balls to it."

Christie chuckled lightly to herself partly from relief and partly from Michael's comment. Then she looked back to Alex. The teacher sat with his back against the wall, breathing heavily.

"Damn that was close. Thanks a lot. You really saved me there. Nice shot you have there."

"Thanks," Michael said, flush with embarrassment. "My uncle taught me how to shoot at the range, but those were just handguns."

"And here I thought you learned all that from videogames!"

"Shouldn't we be going?" Michael asked. He lowered his revolver, but didn't entirely put it away. He still looked ready for some more action.

"Yeah," Alex said, standing onto his feet. "We've got a lot more rooms to check out. And after that experience, I'm ready to get out of here now."

"Why do you think she got back up again?" Christie asked suddenly. "She didn't seem like any regular zombie."

"You think?"

"I wonder if the virus can mutate?" Christie thought aloud. "I don't remember any viruses being able to mutate so drastically though. It's possible it went through a viral shift. That would explain the red skin."

After she said it, she realized the other two were staring at her strangely.

"Sorry," she said blushing. "I'm a bio-medical student at Raccoon University. I only worked as a waitress to help pay for my student loans."

"So do you have any idea how this virus works?" Alex asked curiously.

"No clue. It's unlike anything I've ever seen."

"That's for sure," Michael said. "I'm pretty sure we would have heard about a virus that turns people into zombies before. Seems like the kind of thing you'd find in the textbooks."

"Yeah," Christie said, chuckling slightly.

The trio of survivors continued checking the classrooms, hoping against hope that they would find some other survivors.

xXxXx

"Oh my God…"

Two Crawlers had managed to get in the room; though they both laid slain. No zombies were to be found either, and Drew found it hard to believe that they had ignored the open door. But they most certainly had. Drew carefully stepped over the Crawlers to the defeated form of Neil, rested with his back against the desk. His shirt, a dark, crimson red; his hair and beard, damp with sweat. Tears trailed from his face, falling delicately to the floor.

"Neil?" Drew asked. He approached calmly and carefully. "Neil?"

Josh stood at the doorway, keeping a silent vigil. His arms crossed; his face a painting of all the colors of horror and gravity.

Drew crouched down next to the man. He took a furtive glance at the small bloody form clutched in Neil's arms. His heart tore itself in half. He had no clue why he did it, but the bassist slowly reached out, petting the hair of the girl delicately. After a few strokes he moved it to Neil's shoulder, hopefully comforting him some.

"I did all that I could," Neil whispered, seemingly in response to the touch. "I did all that I could…and it wasn't worth shit."

Drew said nothing.

"The door wouldn't last. She was so scared, and so was I. Then they came in, and everything went…went crazy. I-I don't even remember everything."

Josh approached, remaining silent. He crouched like Drew, on the opposite side of Neil.

Neil began retching, loud, awful heaves. Drew couldn't take it, so he stood to his feet and began walking around the room, rubbing his hand through his hair.

Finally, Josh spoke up. "Neil, listen to me. We can't stay here anymore. The place is crawling with zombies. We're leaving, and you're coming with us."

"No, no, no, no…" Neil shook his head. "I'm infected. I'll stay here…with Annie."

"No!" Josh said firmly. "You're coming with us!"

Neil looked up into the drummer's eyes, and Drew saw something he didn't like. The man's eyes were red and puffy from all the tears he had spilled, but there was more. His countenance was pale— like death— and his veins stood out like tiny poisonous snakes wrapping round his face.

"I've made my mind," Neil said. "I'm not going to just leave her here. She was a daughter to me, and it's my fault she's dead, and I'm not going to leave her ago. No…just no." More tears. He looked down to the girl lovingly before adding, "I already tried killing myself— so I could be with her again. But I used the last of my damn bullets on _them_!"

Drew shook his head. "Josh, he's right. There's nothing we can do. Let's go. This man needs to be alone."

"I'm not leaving without him," the drummer said sternly. "We can't just give up on him. We can't."

"No, you can't!" Drew said, raising his voice. "You can't! It's about you! Always you! You selfish prick!" Instantly, he dropped his voice down out of shame. He didn't want to yell, especially in a somber moment as this. The girl, no matter what age, deserved some respect after all. Still, Drew needed to get this off his chest, so he continued, dropping his voice down to a hoarse whisper.

"This is about how you can't let anyone go! You still can't let Zack go, and I understand that. I really do. But saving everyone will not bring him back, especially when they don't want to be saved. It's not your fucking responsibility, so stop trying to be the nice guy! This is Neil's choice, not yours, so just shut the fuck up and go!"

Josh's face went red hot with anger or embarrassment (Drew didn't know which), but he offered no rebuttal. He turned and left the room, leaving a partially stunned Drew and a grieving Neil.

_Why did I have to go and explode like that? He didn't really mean anything by it. He's just tired of seeing people die._ The bassist had never felt more ashamed in his life, but what was done was done. No changing that fact.

After a moment, Drew's nerves kicked back in, and he crouched down next to Neil again.

"For what it's worth," Drew said. "I'm sorry that any of this had to happen. None of this should have happened, especially to someone as sweet and innocent as her." As he spoke these words, he reached to the back of his pants and pulled out his revolver. His hands felt numb as he swung the cylinder out, dumping the rounds into his hand. Slowly, he reloaded each chamber, save for one. He closed the cylinder, returning the gun to its resting place on his waistband. The bullet he kept clasped in his fist, its weight a heavy reminder.

He reached for Neil's revolver and swung the cylinder out as well. If his hand had been numb before, it was certainly the hand of a phantom now. The single bullet _clicked_ quietly as he set it in the chamber. With the gun loaded, he pulled the hammer back. He set the gun on the floor, to the right of Neil.

"If you're mind is still made up," Drew said, not daring to look at the man's face still buried in the hair of the little girl. "I'll leave you alone now, in case there's anything you want to say to her." He sighed heavily, holding back the emotions that threatened to tear him apart, and walked towards the door.

"Thank you," Neil said behind him. "Thank you."

Drew turned at the door. He felt like he should offer a smile, yet he could not offer any of the strength or resolve in order to do so. He was as broken as the man with the child.

"See you on the other side," Drew finally said, not knowing what else to say. He left Neil, taking an image with him, the image of a dismal man and a dead child, a father and daughter that had been apart for their whole lives, but together for their final moments. As he walked through the library, he read the titles of the books on the floor as he stepped over them— anything to take his mind over what he had just done.

Suddenly, his stomach lurched, and he stopped to heave, resting his hands on his knees. He didn't vomit, but he came close. The torrent of emotions inside of him were taking a toll on his body, more so than any of the blood and gore. He had grown desensitized to that, but he was still a human after all, a slave to emotions. When he managed to gain control of himself again, he continued his walk.

_Was that the right thing to do? Neil had made his mind up, but did he make the right choice? For that matter, did I make the right choice? I just don't know…_

Whatever line dividing right and wrong, good and evil, seemed to have been washed away with blood in the past few nights. What remained was only the morals in Drew's own heart, and he figured now wasn't the time to start second guessing them.

He paused at the large double doors, taking a furtive glance around. When he saw Josh wasn't around, he lifted his shirt up, wincing slightly at the motion. Underneath, a gapping bite wound that had stopped bleeding just a little bit ago.

His mind flashed to the incident.

He had been trying to shut the emergency exit. The dead were coming in; the living were pulled out. A man with a moustache pounced on Drew, but he managed to hold him at bay, pushing him back towards the open door. As he did so, another man, with a face so far rotted, little characteristics remained, took the chance to lash out with his teeth. It had caught him in the ribs. He had screamed, he had pulled out his gun, he had fired, and the man had fallen off to the ground. No one had noticed the blood or the bite, for Drew was covered with blood from many different sources.

Looking at it, Drew realized he needed to take a quick trip to the infirmary. Cleaning the wound out and a bit of anti-bacterial medicine (and with a bit of luck), could hopefully slow down the infection no doubt raging throughout his body. Any bit of sand he could add to his hourglass would be helpful at a moment like this.

Drew let his shirt fall back down, covering the wound. He only hoped the others wouldn't find out. Especially Josh. In time, he would tell his best friend, but at the moment, he couldn't find the words. For Drew had already made up his mind as to what he would do when the bell tolled for him. He could feel the weight of that sacred bullet in his front pocket.

He closed the door behind him, and Josh walked over to him. He had been leaning against the wall deep in thought. He said nothing.

"I want to fucking leave, right now," Drew said bitterly. "Let's split up. You start checking the rooms, I'm going to head to the infirmary and see if anyone's there. If you need me, holler. Let's try to stay in earshot."

Drew walked through the halls solemnly, staring at the ground. Just as he reached the door to the infirmary, he heard a single shot from a revolver echo throughout the hallway.

Then, Drew vomited.

* * *

_A/N: Well, another two months and another update. I don't seem to be doing much better getting this out for my faithful readers, and I sincerely apologize for that. Hopefully, no one is forgetting about this story due to my infrequent updates. I have been busy with college work, but with only four weeks of school left for this semester and a large summer break, things should start running a lot more smoothly. Add in my insomnia which is only cured by a healthy dose of reading and writing and things start picking up some pace. For that reason, I feel fairly confident in saying I should get the next chapter out before my summer break in four weeks. Also keep an eye out for some other stories popping up. I've had a lot of inspiration in my downtime and the fruits of which may come out sooner than you expect._

_As always, thanks in advance to those who review, and an even greater thanks to those who continue to show support! I hope to hear from you all very soon!_


	27. A Real Monster

**Chapter Twenty-Seven — A Real Monster**

The pain was immense.

"Son of a bitch," Drew seethed through clenched teeth. Still, he pressed the cloth harder against the wound, letting the antiseptic do its job. "You'd think they'd make medicine that didn't cause _more _pain."

He stood in the infirmary, doing his best to clean up his bite wound. In the sink, a large pool of blood collected from the cleaning process. With the cloth still pressed tight to his side, Drew began rummaging through the various supplies. He found many other medicines all with different names impossible for him to pronounce, so he left those. Last thing he wanted to do was overdose by mixing random drugs that didn't go well together.

Instead, he settled with a handful of aspirin, pocketing the bottle. He didn't know if the over-the-counter medicine would have any effect, but it seemed better than nothing. To his joy, he found a clean shirt and pair of jeans as well. Probably left for any student who had theirs stained. He grabbed some bandages and more cloth as well, walking back to the sink. Wincing, he cleaned the wound thoroughly a second time. After he was satisfied, he applied the cloth and bandage, wrapping the wound tight and carefully. He wanted to make sure no hint of the bandages were visible.

After he was bandaged up, he looked himself over in the mirror.

_Disgusting,_ he thought. _I look no better than any of them._

This was true. His face covered with blood; his fair matted with gore; his clothes stained with grime. He looked like a man who had been to Hell and back. And the more he thought about it, maybe he was such a man.

Drew splashed warm water onto his face and hair, cleaning up a bit. He wouldn't be able to get the stench out, but he would be satisfied with just having his face clean again. Quickly, he changed out of his dirty, blood-stained clothes and into the newer ones. The shirt was plain and red, something cheap and affordable. That was lucky, with that color, if his wound opened up again, it would be harder to see. He put on the pair of jeans as well and transferred everything from his old pockets into his new.

He stopped as he pulled out the last bullet for the revolver. He held it between his thumb and pointer, holding it up to the light, inspecting it. A wave of nausea swept over him. He suddenly thought of Neil, and he wondered what the man thought of that one, single bullet. Did he regard it with the same mysticism and reverence as Drew did? Finally, he set the bullet in the front pocket of his t-shirt. He could feel its weight against his breast.

After he was cleaned up and changed, he looked at himself in the mirror once again. He looked better.

_Such a strange thought to be having— if I look good or not. Why does it matter? It's not like I'm going to be picking up any chicks at a time like this._

The thought led to another. He thought of all the girls he had been with on tour. As a heavy metal star, there seemed to be no end to them. That brought a smile to his lips, but it was a bitter one. He realized that if by some miracle he managed to make it out of the city, it would never be the same. Pleasures of the flesh seemed so shallow to him now.

"Whoever thought that a few nights with zombies would ruin my mojo," he said out loud and laughed quietly to himself.

He wondered again what life would be like after this. What does one do after they have brushed with death so many times? For the life of him, Drew didn't know.

_Screw it then,_ he thought. _You don't even know if there'll be an after to this. You are infected, remember? Don't worry about what happens in the future, you have to keep your head in the present if you want even the slimmest chance of saving yourself. And more importantly, the others._

He bent down and grabbed his rifle, slinging it over his shoulder. Before he left the room, he grabbed the t-shirt he had been wearing. He stared down at a blood-stained Eddie, the zombie mascot of Iron Maiden. As he looked, Eddie flashed and a nameless zombie, terribly deformed from the disease replaced him. In disgust, Drew threw the t-shirt into the garbage.

That part of his life was over. In many ways, the nightmare in Raccoon City had been a rechristening of sorts. In the blood, Drew had been baptized and became a new man. Though he had tried his best to focus on the present, it was impossible to ignore both the past and the future, but he realized then…

It was impossible to go back.

__

BAM!

Drew quickly turned to the sound of the gun. It echoed throughout the hallway, impossible to pinpoint exactly, but he could tell the general direction it had came from and that was enough. He stepped out into the hall and turned to the sound. He walked briskly, but as he heard two more reports, he began to run.

Chances were, Josh had just ran into a few zombies, but what if he had ran into one of the Crawlers? Or maybe there was something worse? If Drew was a betting man, he'd put money that they hadn't seen the worst of this nightmare just yet.

xXxXx

Josh stepped out into the empty hall, shutting the door behind him. He looked to his left, down the hall. There were still some classrooms he needed to check. Rubbing his forehead with exhaustion, he sighed. The drummer doubted that there would be anyone else alive in the school. Whoever had been inside during the attack wouldn't have stood a chance against the army of the undead. Still, the last thing Josh wanted to do was to give up hope.

_What about Drew?_ he thought. _Has he given up hope? He let Neil kill himself. He let Zack die. He hasn't done anything to try to help anyone else. He called me selfish, but from where I am, looks like he had that backwards._

No matter what, Josh resolved to keep Drew alive. He had lost everything else in just one night, but he'd be damned before he lost it all. Shouldering his shotgun again, he walked to the closest classroom. Inside, he found nothing but empty desks.

"Hello?" he called out. "Anyone hiding in here?" Josh shrugged and shut the door.

In the next room, he found three zombies standing over a mutilated corpse. Josh couldn't even tell if it was a man or a woman. In fact, he couldn't truly tell if it was human or not for sure— he just assumed it was so. He raised his handgun and aimed at the closest zombie, a man that had only one blue eye; the other, a deep recess in his skull. His finger tensed on the trigger, but he didn't pull it. It would only be a waste of ammo to shoot something that wasn't dangerous at the moment. Instead, he slowly and calmly shut the door, trapping the zombies in the room, for the moment.

He kept the gun in his right hand and opened the door to the next classroom.

__

BAM!!

A bullet lodged itself in the wood paneling, inches away from Josh's face, spraying small shrapnels of wood. With quick reflexes, Josh stepped back into the hall and pressed his back against the wall by the doorway, creating some cover from future attacks. He clutched the handgun in both of his sweaty hands.

"Don't shoot!" Josh yelled, raising his voice. "I'm not a zombie! I'm human! I'm looking for anyone who needs help!"

"Don't come in here!" a voice yelled, a masculine voice full of fear. "I've got a gun!"

_I had no clue, _Josh thought sarcastically. He didn't get a chance to see the man before he had fired, and his curiosity began to get the better of him. He wondered if he could take a peak at him and see what he was dealing with. He lowered himself to the ground, hoping the man kept his gun trained at normal head level. Stopping at the door frame, he took in a few deep breaths. It was now or never. Quickly, he poked his head outside the frame.

__

BAM!! BAM!!

The man fired twice this time, the first shot sailing wide over his head, the second ricocheted off the tiled floor in front of him. Just as quickly as before, he brought his head back.

"Holy shit!" he said breathlessly, feeling his heart hammer in his chest. _Don't do that again, you fucking idiot. You almost got yourself killed!_

Still, he had seen what he wanted to see and he hoped it would be enough to get him out of the situation. The man wasn't much of a man at all.

He was only a high-school student.

"What are you doing!?" the teen yelled. "I-I-I told you not to! Not t-to come in! Just stay away!!"

"Wait a minute!" Josh called back, feeling a little more empowered now that he knew what he was dealing with. "Can you just put that gun away for a second and talk?!"

"No! You have a gun too! I saw it!"

Not knowing exactly what he was doing, Josh quickly set his handgun on the floor and slid it through the open door. He pulled out his revolver and followed suit. Finally, he unslung his shotgun and set it down in front of the door.

_Please God,_ Josh begged, looking up at the ceiling. _Don't let me get shot by this teenager. I hope its not too much to ask._

"There! I'm completely unarmed! You don't have any reason to fear me now! You're the one with the gun! I'm going to step out now, but I'm going to keep my hands up. I'm not dangerous to you at all."

He didn't hear any answer from the teen. He'd just have to assume that was enough to not get shot. Breathing in deeply again, Josh stepped into the frame of the door.

He flinched, expecting the shot, but it never came. Finally, he was face to face with his attacker, was able to see the man in full and not just brief glimpses.

He stood at the other side of the room pointing a shaking gun towards the drummer. His black hair was shaggy and bloody. He wore a white, collared shirt untucked, stained with blood and a pair of ripped jeans. He reached up and pushed a pair of thin, cracked glasses back onto the bridge of his noise. Behind the glasses, a pair of brown eyes, wide with fear.

"What is your name?" Josh asked. "I'm Josh Hunter."

"I'm-I'm Shawn. Shawn Petry."

"Well, Shawn," Josh said with a smile, hoping to calm him. "What do you want to do now? You're the one in control after all."

Behind the fear, he could see the confusion now. He briefly wondered again if he was making the right move, but at this moment, it didn't matter. He had no other choice but to stick to his original plan.

"I don't know. You seem to be alright, but I still don't know." Shawn used his spare hand to rub his forehead. "Just so much has happened. So much. I still don't know if I can trust you. So maybe I should…maybe I should just kill you!"

__

Shit…

The smile on Josh's face faded. He had no clue what his face looked like, but he imagined one full of shock and fear.

"Don't do it. I'm here to help you. I'm with a bunch of other survivors. We're leaving the school. You can come with us and we'll be able to protect you. There's safety in numbers."

"I can't trust you!" Shawn said, jabbing the gun in his hands toward Josh. The drummer cringed in anticipation for the shot that never came. "On the streets, there were three guys who said we could trust them. But they took my younger sister, kidnapped her. I tried to stop them but they had guns! They had guns! What was I supposed to do!? They shot at me and ran off with her, ran off with Jessica! They probably killed her by now! It's all my fault! I can't let that happen again!" The teenagers body heaved from the sobs, and after he finished his threats, he made deep wretching sounds in his throats.

Behind the glasses, Josh saw something else mixed with the fear and confusion, something that unsettled him very much. He saw insanity and wild fervor. Watching his sister be taken away by regular people in a city infested by the living dead must have been the final straw, the final thread in the rope tying his sanity down. Josh suddenly realized he was a dead man, he had hoped to resolve the situation through diplomacy, but you couldn't reason with a crazy man, only bullets and lead would save him now.

_Do I have enough time to grab my gun? He'll definitely shoot before I can get it, but he can't seem to stop himself from shaking. He could miss again. Then I'd have my shot._

"G-get on your knees!" Shawn said, stepping closer. "And p-put your h-hands above your he-head!"

Grimacing, Josh did the only thing he could, follow orders. He kept his eyes on Shawn as he slowly fell to his knees.

"Are you going to execute me?" Josh asked softly. "Do you really think you can do it?"

"What do you mean, of course I can. I've got the gun and you're unarmed. You can't do anything."

Josh shook his head. "That's not what I meant. Have you ever killed a person before?"

"I've killed a lot of the people out there."

"That's not the same. Those things are barely people. It's not the same as shooting someone who has life in there eyes, looking right at you. Trust me, I— "

"Just shut up!"

"– – know myself. I tried to kill a man who was going to turn into a zombie. Still couldn't bring myself to do it. It's not as easy as they make it seem in the movies. There's too many emotions involved. I know exactly what you're feeling right now."

"No you don't!" Tears began to form in Shawn's eyes. "No one— "

"I do."

"— knows what I'm feeling."

"Pain. Confusion. Guilt. Fear. All of those and more, all mixing, all thrown together until the point where you don't know what you're really feeling anymore. Am I wrong?"

Josh's remarks made Shawn stop and think. The gun in his hand lowered slightly. Josh's eyes slid to the pile of weapons at his side.

_Can I grab it? I probably could grab it. His guard is down. But then what? Maybe I've finally gotten through to him. Then if I grab the gun I'll undo everything I just did._

So many thoughts running through his head. His muscles twitched with anticipation.

"There's something you're missing though," Shawn finally said, a small smile beginning to form on his lips. "Excitement. There's something exciting about taking another person's life."

Josh said nothing. He now realized there was no hope of talking his way out of it. The boy had gone completely off the edge. But Josh wasn't ready to call it quits, he needed to act and act fast.

"I wonder how I'll feel after you're gone," Shawn said. His finger tensed on the trigger. "Goodbye."

Josh rolled, moving for the gun. Shawn fired.

__

BAM!!

Josh didn't feel anything. Did he miss? Fumbling around, Josh managed to grab his revolver and turn, aiming the gun at Shawn. His finger tensed on the trigger but he didn't shoot.

Shawn stood there still, gun by his side. His other hand, pressed tight against his chest did nothing to stop the flow of blood. Surprised, Josh looked behind him to see Drew, pointing his gun at the high school student.

"You sonnova!" Shawn yelled, raising his gun quickly to retaliate.

Drew fired twice, shooting the teenage once in the shoulder and once in the chest. He fell down in a slump, gun falling from his hand. Drew walked up slowly, peering over Shawn's body. Shawn's chest rose and fell with pained breathing. Drew stared deep into the man's eyes.

"Wha-wh-what?"

With pity, Drew raised his gun and fired one last time to end the boy's pain. Josh tried not to pay attention to the sympathetic execution as he reached over for his own weapons, returning them all to their rightful places.

"Sorry I didn't get here sooner," Drew said, still not taking his eyes off Shawn's corpse. "I heard the gunshots and came as quickly as I could. Maybe if I got here sooner…"

"Then what?" Josh sighed. "You could have killed him sooner?"

"At least you wouldn't have been so close to being killed."

"I just…just don't understand why someone would want to take the life of someone else," Josh said, shaking his head. He then turned his attention to Drew. Tentatively, he asked, "Drew, are you okay? How are you feeling?"

Casually, Drew began rummaging through Shawn's pockets. "I don't know, Josh. To be honest, I'm not feeling much of anything." He sighed as he pulled out just one more clip from the teenager's pockets. "The closest thing I can come to is anger. Anger that someone would try to kill you, but other than that, nothing. No regret. No grief."

Josh stared at his friend.

Drew just shook his head. "Maybe this city has drained me of all my emotions. Or maybe I just reacted to protect you so there wasn't much to think about. Either way, if you're asking if I feel sorry for this guy, I do. I feel sorry for what this city turned him into it. But I don't feel sorry because he's dead. I did what I had to do."

_What you had to do? _Josh thought about what his friend said. _Is that why you let Zack die? And what about Neil? How can you use that kind of logic to determine who lives and dies?_ Not for the first time, Josh felt anger towards his friend and their conflicting ideals.

"Let's just get out of here," Josh finally said. "I'm tired."

"I'm thinking the same thing."

The two members of the band left the room, shutting the door on Shawn Petry's blood stained body. They walked in silence (save for the occasional moan) through the halls.

Josh turned his thoughts in on themselves once again. He had just seen a man become a real life monster, an experience that made every bone in his body quiver and shake. _Shawn…he lost all reason. His mind just snapped. I don't know exactly who he was before, but he seemed to care a lot for his sister. How can someone like that just snap? Can that happen to anyone?_

He looked to Drew. So far, the bassist had managed to keep his head on straight, but would it last? There was another danger none of the survivors had taken into account: what would be left of them when (if) they escaped? Would they still be the same person, not physically, but mentally, emotionally?

The two musicians managed to make it to the back of the school without saying a word to each other. Sitting in the hall, right outside the door to the loading docks, were Michael, Alex, and Christie. As the band members came into view, the other survivors stood up to greet them?

"Everything all right?" Alex asked. "We heard a bunch of gunshots."

Drew looked to Josh before saying, "Just cleaning up the monsters that are still in the building. We're both completely fine."

"The gunshots weren't what bothered me," Michael said. "It was the silence after. At least when there were gunshots we knew you guys were still alive, but when it was quiet, you don't know for sure."

"Well, you don't have to worry about it anymore," Josh said. "We're back together and that's how we're going to stay."

"But where are we going to go?" Christie asked.

"I don't know," Josh answered.

"All we do know is this place is no longer safe," Drew added. "We should try to find a way out of the city."

"Should we really try to leave the city?" Alex asked. "Why not just find some place else to board ourselves up in? Try to outlast them until help comes."

"What help?" Christie asked. "Do you know that help is coming? Who's coming?"

"I don't know," Alex said, frustrated. "The Army? National Guard? Hell, at this point I'd settle for some Goddamn firemen!"

"We can't count on the fact that they're sending in the cavalry," Drew pointed out. "We already met some Navy SEAL soldiers that had been sent in. At this point, it's safe to assume that the government has known about our situation for a little while. If they were sending in troops for search and rescue, we'd be home by now."

"You don't know that!" the Latino man said hotly.

Drew shook his head. "You're right. But neither do you. Regardless of whether the Army is coming or not, we still have to find somewhere to go. We stand the best chance if we leave the city." The bassist looked over to Josh who stood idly by, stoic. He hoped to receive some support from his fellow band member, but the drummer seemed incredibly impassive. "If we find somewhere else to stay, how will it be any different from this place? However they do it, the zombies can somehow sense us. Notice how they always gather in a group around us?

"If we barricade ourselves into another building it'll happen again. We'll just back ourselves into a corner. We might not escape like we did here. Do we want to take the risk?"

"I guess that makes some sense, but I don't like the sound of it," Alex said thoughtfully.

"Well we are a group," Christie said. "One person shouldn't decide for us. Let's make a decision together."

"What? Like a vote?"

"Exactly."

"Democracy during the Apocalypse," Drew said with a smile. "Guess there's not much else that can surprise me now."

"So raise your hand if you vote to find someplace to hide until help comes," Christie said.

Alex raised his hand quickly and looked around, hoping to rally support. Tentatively, Michael also raised his hand.

"Alright. And now who votes to try to leave the city."

Drew and Christie both raised their hands. Only Josh stood still, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He appeared to be incredibly tired, but was pouring the last of his mental powers into this decision.

"Well?" Alex asked curiously. "What is your vote?"

Everyone grew silent. Josh still stood inexpressively. Finally he opened his mouth to say, "I don't care either way."

"That's not how democracy works," Michael said. "You have to make a decision."

Josh locked eyes with Drew.

_What do you want from me? _Josh thought. _To agree with you on everything? But I can't do that. You keep letting people die. But if you want to take the lead and have everyone follow you, feel free. You can feel that weight on your shoulders._

"Fine. I'm with Drew and Christie. Let's just try to get out of here."

"Alright. So let's check our weapons, make sure we're ready to go, and get the hell out of here."

xXxXx

Finally, the group of tired survivors left the school via the same entrance they had come in. The loading docks were clear. Apparently, the barricades on the ramp and done their job deterring any zombies from gathering. Michael wondered if the zombies did have some remote intelligence. Did they realize there was an easier way into the building or was it all just coincidence?

"Looks good to me," Drew said. "Now lets get moving, the more we stand around, the more time they have to surround us."

Quickly, they all jumped off the waist high ledge. As he did so, Michael thought of his father.

_When we first came here, Dad had to be lifted up because of his leg. _He looked to his feet so that no one else in the group could see the pain on his face. _I didn't even get to say goodbye. When I left he was there, when I came back, he was gone. So quick it didn't even seem possible. Just like one sick kind of joke._

Not for the first time he wished he would just wake up in his bed, leaving everything he had experienced nothing but a bad dream, forgotten the next night. He could see it now, him waking up screaming in the darkness, but then his mom and dad would come in, turn on the lights and console him until he fell back into a more peaceful dream.

However, that was only his wishful. His parents weren't even together anymore, and no amount of dreaming could change that now.

"Wake up and get real, kid," he said to himself bitterly. "You're going to have to deal with this." He wiped the moisture from his eyes and set his gaze forward.

Drew stopped at the corner of the brick wall; the others falling behind him. Drew checked his rifle for what had to be the third time and rounded the corner. No gunshot. No scream. No moan.

"We're clear," Drew's voice said around the corner. "There's still some at the front entrance, but we've got some distance between us."

Everyone moved around the corner, checking the front entrance. Sure enough, the large group of zombies that had been gathered there at the group's arrival had long since dispersed. Only a handful remained, roaming around the lawn.

Still keeping his eyes peeled in all remaining directions, Drew strode across the soft grass towards the pavement of the street.

"What street are we on, Alex?"

The teacher looked around briefly before answering. "Since we're at the front of the building, this is Ennerdale Street."

"Where does it lead?"

"Pretty much anywhere," Alex said. "Its one of the main streets, cutting through a lot of the city."

"So which way to do we go?" Christie asked.

Michael looked both ways down the street. The street was littered with cars, trash, and bodies. Neither direction looked appealing.

"We're smack dab in the middle of the city," Alex said. "Either way we go its going to be awhile before we reach the outskirts."

"Any ideas?" Drew asked, looking to Josh.

"If it doesn't matter," Josh said, "just pick a direction and start walking. We can't stand here, we're drawing too much attention."

As he said this, Michael finally came aware of the moans. Strange how he hadn't noticed them before. Even stranger to think how he had become so accustomed to them in such a short amount of time. It was no different than the people who had lived in Raccoon City before became used to the sound of traffic until it became nothing more than white noise.

Now, since the drummer's comment, he realized how many of the moans were coming from all directions. He turned in a slow three-sixty, seeing zombies shuffle towards the group. Some were hundred of feet away, others much closer.

"Fuck it then," Drew said walking in one direction. "Let's get moving."

The group jogged to follow Drew. They moved in a zigzag like pattern, maneuvering around the obstacles in their way. Drew performed a graceful leap over a dead body, but Michael wasn't as quick footed. The boy had looked back over his shoulder for a little longer to see if they were being pursued. The zombies they had managed to outrun where growing in number behind them, determined to catch up even with their slow, shambling pace. With Michael's attention elsewhere, his foot caught the dead man in the ribs, and he went down, hard.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Michael yelled after his face had connected with the pavement. His nose felt like it had exploded on contact and hot blood spilled from his nostrils into his mouth, coating his lips in the coppery taste.

To add to his misfortune, the dead man he had tripped over hadn't been so dead after all. Cold, clammy hands gripped Michael's shoulders, pulling, yearning. The rotted face of the man came closer and closer to his own. What had once been a beard had fallen away with the man's skin, resulting in a clump of blood, hair, and flesh. The man brought his face closer and closer to Michael's own, maw open wide. To the boy, it seemed like he was either trying to make out with him or suck out his soul through his mouth.

Michael wasn't terribly excited about the prospect of either.

Reacting the only way he knew how, the boy brought up his pistol, shoving it into the zombie's mouth. Instinctively, the zombie bit down with his yellow, decaying teeth. Instinctively, Michael turned his head away as he fired.

The cold hands gave up their grip on his shoulders, and he quickly flung the body off of his. Standing to his feet, he first looked to the dead man's head. Then he looked to the gun in his head, covered in blood and saliva. Disgusted, he wiped the fluids on the side of his shorts.

"Are you okay, Michael?" a voice asked behind him. He turned to see Christie running towards him. Apparently, the group hadn't figured out he had lagged behind until just now.

Michael did his best to wipe away the blood flowing from his noise and give her a smile, but the contact with his noise resulted in a grimace of pain.

"I'm so sorry," Christie said, dropping down to her knees to look at the boy's noise. "I should have been right behind you. I won't leave you behind like that again."

"Id's foin," Michael slurred with a mouthful of blood. He turned and ungracefully spat the red liquid to the ground. "He didn't bite me. My noise just hurts."

"I bet," she laughed quietly. "Now let's go. We have some catching up to do."

She took his hand in hers, and they resumed their jog.

Ahead of them, Drew and Alex stood on top of a car, gazing out. Josh stood idly on the ground, waiting for the two to make a decision.

"What's going on?" Christie asked when she neared Josh.

"We're at a crossroad," he answered. "They're getting some elevation so that we can see what's ahead."

"To find the safest route," Drew added.

"Ennerdale Street looks like it leads to a giant crowd of zombies," Alex said.

"And so does Warren Street," the bassist sighed.

"Well we can't go back," Christie said. "There's another crowd gathering behind us."

"We'll have to go through the buildings to try to find a back alley around," Drew said, jumping off the car. When he saw Michael's face he asked, "what happened to you?"

"I tripped," the boy answered bashfully.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, it just hurts a little."

On the corner of Ennerdale and Warren was a clothing store named RACCOON RAGS. The door had been left wide open, looking like someone had busted it down. Though it was no military base, it seemed as good of a location as any to take temporary shelter.

Drew slung the rifle onto his shoulder and pulled out his handgun as he neared the front door. Michael considered pulling out the revolver, but decided on keeping his handgun like Drew. Carefully and slowly, Drew entered the store. The others followed.

Inside, it looked like a pissed off bull had run rabid in the store. Clothes lay like fallen soldiers, casualties to the world's greatest war. Some of the steel racks had been toppled and bent at odd angles. Surprisingly, there was little blood.

"Do you think the zombies did this?" Christie asked.

"I wouldn't count on it," Josh said.

"Yeah, looks like something much bigger and stronger went berserk in here," Drew said.

"Screechers," Michael said, pointing to the claw marks on the wall.

"Then let's head to the back as quick as we can," Drew said. "The last thing I want to run into is one of those fuckers again."

Michael's skin crawled at the thought of the creature roaming the streets. The group had come into contact with the demons twice, and both times seemed so surreal Like they had never happened. Sometimes, the brain and senses experience so much, no matter how real the incident, the mind fails to realize the actuality. Maybe it was a defense mechanism, maybe it was stupidity. Still, no matter how real the Screechers had been outside of the hotel, how real their claws had been when tearing apart the bus, some part of Michael's brain refused to acknowledge their presence.

At the back of the store, sure enough, there was a bright, EXIT sign hanging over a door. On the other side, the group found an alleyway. Two zombies moaned with surprise at the sound of the slamming door and moved from the street into the alley. The survivors went the other way, into a smaller street not crowded with the undead.

Michael much preferred moving through the streets than the buildings. On the streets, he could see much further. Less shadows. Less corners. Inside, there were so many places for zombies to hide.

He wiped the blood from his nose once again and followed the others.

The street remained bare of zombies, and there were only a few corpses among the litter and chaos. However, with the corpses, something new and unexpected had been brought in.

"What are those? Alex asked as he pointed to tiny black shapes covering the corpses.

"They look like crows almost."

The survivors stopped in their tracks, staring at the birds as the birds stared back at them. All in all, Michael counted twenty-one of them— eight on one body, seven on another, and six on the last.

"What are we so afraid of?" Alex laughed. "They're _just_ crows."

"Not exactly," Christie said. "Look at their eyes."

The eyes in question had glazed over a milky white, and those empty eyes stared at Michael. Their heads twitched slightly atop their necks; a brave one even squawked at him.

"Does it actually affect them?" Michael asked tenderly. "Maybe the virus only works on people?"

"Back at the school," Josh said. "Neil told me about how he went into a house and had to fight an infected dog. Animals are affected by it too, but we still don't know exactly how. Besides the white eyes, these crows still look alright. Their flesh isn't rotting after all."

"It would make sense for them to be infected though," Christie said. "They have been pecking at infected bodies. Not the cleanest habit."

"Then what?" Michael asked, "do we try killing them all? Or do we just walk past them?"

"Walking is worth a shot," Drew said. "Let's just do it nice and slow. If those things attack you, one little peck or scratch, you're infected."

"Comforting…" Josh muttered under his breath.

Drew led the way, never breaking eye contact with any of the birds.

_Maybe he wants to intimidate them? _Michael thought. _We are bigger than them so maybe we can just scare them off._ He didn't have the faintest clue if it would work, but he did his best to try and intimidate them as well. He locked eyes with a particularly fat bird from the lot. The bird cocked its head and cawed quietly. For a moment, Michael wondered what it was thinking.

Drew led the group in a large circle, circumventing the bodies and the birds. He tried to keep a twenty foot radius separating the group from the infected crows.

Suddenly, the birds took off simultaneously, taking flight. Michael watched curiously as they began to circle in the air, cawing madly as they did so. From the rooftops of nearby buildings more crows joined the congregation in the sky. If they kept coming, Michael had no doubt they would blot out the sky like a giant thunderhead. However, when their mass numbered in the hundreds, it seemed to be at an end.

"I think now would be a good time to get indoors," Josh said.

At the sound of his voice, the first bird dive bombed towards the group like a bullet.

Alex dropped to all fours and the crow flew over his head, slamming into a nearby car. The alarm blared; the crow fell to the ground with a broken wing, shaking and crying out wildly. Alex managed to show some sort of pity by using the heel of his foot to end its spasms.

With the death of their martyr, the others were called into action. A giant mass of feathers and talons came barreling down.

"In here!" a voice called out.

Michael didn't even look to who was calling, he just turned towards the voice and ran. He kept his eyes over his shoulders to see if the black cloud of feathers was coming closer.

Josh and Drew would occasionally fire backwards with their handguns, dropping some of the birds, but they were not slowed down. These crows were not like zombies, or even Screechers. They were not slowed down from gunfire, for the cloud they had formed had no real shape or real substance— just crow after crow.

He could hear the flap of wings, the high pitched caw of the infected birds behind him. Ahead, he focused in on the doorway. Standing in the doorway was a large man, firing a shotgun over the heads of the group.

Michael was the first one into the building. The others quickly followed suit. As soon as Josh, the last, was inside, the man shut the door. He braced his back against it while simultaneously reloading his shotgun. Several _thumps _and _bangs _resounded against the wooden door as the crows pelted against the barrier in their suicide dive.

"Thanks a lot man," Drew said breathlessly. "We would have been screwed if we had been out there for even a moment longer. We owe you big time."

"No problem," the man answered, stepping away from the door. "It's good to see you guys are still alive."

"Holy shit! Tony, is that you?" Drew exclaimed happily.

"The one and only," Tony answered, smiling. The soldier had lost his tactical gear and was now dressed in civilian clothes: blue jeans, a black shirt, a brown jacket, and hiking boots. "But no time for a reunion right now. We need to move before these bastards find the windows.

But the crows had already found the windows and were dive bombing them. The glass cracked and spider webbed but did not break right away, but it wouldn't last.

"There's a side door on the right that takes you to the next building!" Tony yelled. He pushed the others along, staying behind. His large hands gripped Michael's shoulders, carefully but firmly, pushing him forward. Behind, the glass continued to crack until finally it shattered into a million pieces. The first crow that had punched its way through lay dead on the floor, cut and bled dry from the glass. The others, however, were fine, and they flew chaotically around the room, searching for their prey. Luckily, Tony had shut the door to the next building just as the glass had broke, leaving the crows in a harmless, empty room.

"Just to be safe," Tony said, "keep moving. We'll put a couple rooms and doors in between us so that they can't get through."

The group walked through this building which was nothing more than a large, glorified storage room, and went into the alley. Calmly, Drew shot and killed the one zombie in the alley before it could even turn around. He stepped over it and opened the next door, coming into the kitchen of a restaurant. Another zombie eagerly stepped forward, but it also stood no chance as Drew shot it in the forehead.

Tony shut the door behind them, but didn't lock it. As Michael figured, Tony doubted the crows could open the door like a human. At this point in the night, Michael wouldn't have been so surprised.

"Let's check out the area real quick," Drew said. "Make sure this guy— "he gestured to the zombie on the floor— "doesn't have any friends."

"Good idea," Tony agreed. "Me, Christie, and the kid will check up front. We'll also make sure we're secured in here. You guys can check the back. While you're at it, look for any food or supplies. I'm starving."

Tony pushed open the door separating the kitchen from the main room, and Michael followed.

For the most part, the restaurant looked to be alright. A few tables and chairs had been scattered, flies had gathered on some plates of food that hadn't been touched, but other than that, things looked normal. There were no bodies. There was no blood. And thankfully, there were no zombies.

Immediately, Tony moved to the front of the restaurant, grabbing a couple chairs as he moved. Michael followed his lead.

_Is it really him?_ he thought. _He looks so different without his uniform. I wonder why he isn't wearing it anymore._

"Umm…Tony?" Michael asked quietly.

"What?"

"Why aren't you wearing your uniform? Did you quit or something?"

Tony laughed hard. "Not quite. It's an interesting story if you have the time for it. But I'm still a SEAL. Nothing, not even a uniform, could change that."

Michael looked to the ground, slightly red from embarrassment. _What a stupid question,_ he berated himself. _You sound just like a stupid kid. An adult wouldn't have asked such a stupid question._

"How did you get here then? And where's the rest of your squad?" Christie asked.

"Like I said," Tony asked. "It's a long story, and I don't want to repeat myself, so I'll tell everyone at the same time. We make sure this place is secure first. Then, we can have story time."

The soldier checked the front door to make sure it was locked, and as added insurance he started to build a barricade with the chairs. Michael handed him the one he had dragged.

"Thanks." He looked to Christie. "Hey, Christie, do you think you could do me a favor and draw the blinds on those giant windows. I don't want anyone or anything out there to see us in here."

Christie happily obliged, and Michael helped her.

When the front was secured. Tony went back to the tables, picked a clean one and sat down.

"Damn, does it feel good to take some rest."

"The back's fine," Drew said, coming from the kitchen. "And there's not much for fresh food besides some vegetables and fruit." As he said this, he tossed an apple towards the soldier.

Tony caught it deftly with one hand. "Much appreciated." He leaned back casually as he used pulled out a knife from his pocket and began to cut into slices.

"And here, Michael," Drew said, approaching the child. "I grabbed a rag from the back. Let's clean you up a bit so that you look less like them and more like yourself."

Michael thought briefly about putting up a fight, thought briefly of saying he was old enough to take care of himself, but it didn't seem worth the effort. He sat patiently as Drew dabbed his noise gently with the hot, wet cloth. He only grimaced slightly in pain at the contact.

"Let me take a look at that," Tony said after the blood had been washed off. "I've had some training in first aid. Definitely enough to fix a noise." His hands, each nearly as large as Michael's head, gripped the sides of his face gently. He turned Michael's head this way and that way.

"Just a little broken," Tony finally said. "If you'd like, I could push it back into place, but it'd hurt a lot."

"Go ahead and do it," Michael said, trying to sound as brave as he could. _I'm tired of everyone treating me like I'm a little kid anyway,_ he finished the thought in his head.

"If you say so," Tony said. "On three. One…two…three!"

His noise crunched slightly as the cartilage realigned itself forcefully. Tony hadn't lied, the pain was immense. Immediately, Michael's eyes watered and a soft whimper emitted from his trembling lips. It took all his mental reserves to not cry in front of everyone else.

"How's that feel?"

"Still hurts," Michael said with a short laugh, wiping his eyes clear. "But I'll live."

"Here, have some of my apple," Tony said handing him a slice. "It's no lollipop, but I'm no doctor either."

Michael took the apple graciously, but was even more glad to have all the attention off of him. All eyes focused on the giant soldier as he rounded the table back to his seat.

"Tony," Josh said. "Can I ask you a question? A couple really." Tony just nodded him along. "Where did you come from? And where's the rest of your team?" The drummer paused. "They're not…"

"Dead?" Tony finished. Josh nodded slowly. "No, they're all fine, as far as I know. Even Chad is okay."

This announcement seemed to pick up Josh's spirits. "Chad is fine?! How? I thought he got killed after the bus flipped! There were so many of them."

Tony sighed. He looked around the table slowly. "Looks like I have things to tell you guys. You might want to grab a beer or something from the back, cause this is a long one."

"I think we have some time now," Drew said. "Now that our lives aren't an immediate danger."

"Fair enough. Now sit back and relax, and I'll tell all of you what happened."

With that, Tony began his story…

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the wait once again. No excuse really. I just need to get my act together. Also, some bad news for my faithful reviewers. As of now, I'm putting Last Man Standing on hiatus. I feel like in order to improve my writing and continue this story at the level I want it to be at, I need to invest my time in other projects. I have plenty of other story ideas for this site that I've been working on, plus many original ideas for novels, short stories, and a possible screenplay. At this point in my life, I feel like if I'm going to become a writer, as was my original intention_, _I need to take a step forward, and that means getting some stuff, however big or small, published. So this means to achieve both a great quality to this story and a start to my future career, I need to take some other steps, write some other stories. Sorry if this disapoints any of you, but I really feel this will help in the long run. This apology goes double for my most faithful readers, because you have invested nearly as much time in this story as I have, but I promise, I will finish this story. I have big plans for this._

_Until then, keep an eye on my profile. Some new stuff should be showing up sporadically, whether for this story or another. Also, I plan to make any original work I write available to those who wish to read it so there may be information on that. Once again, sorry for all of this, but I hope to hear from all of you soon and vice versa. So until then, keep on living, reading, and growing. Here's to life!_


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